Bicycle Tours in South Western Australia:

Midland - Harrismith - Cottesloe

11 days, 726 km [map]

The aim of this trip was not decided at the outset. It depended on weather and wind conditions, how I felt and how the new bike, built with some difficulty and finally with some haste, would go. I was clear that I wanted to reach Wickepin on Day 4, but after that I would be flexible.

Originally I had planned to start from Albany and come back through Denmark and Walpole, visiting the Valley of the Giants and trying the new tree-top walk, but the 'Walpole Problem' of a 120 km gap with nowhere to stay between Walpole and Manjimup made me realise that I would have to come back through Northcliffe and up the SW highway, which I had only done the previous year. Either that, or I would have to try the 120 km in uncertain conditions (would have been stormy, as it turned out) on an untried new bike. So I decided instead to head south-east and try to go to new places or places not visited for years.

PRELIMINARY

The old touring bike needed major renewal. It needed a new frame and the cluster and pedal-axle bearings had worn beyond the stage where simple cleaning would restore them. I bought a new rigid alloy frame and front fork, only to find that the wheels would be too large for it, and the brakes would be too long for the blocks to sit on the rim. The new frame was metric and a 27-inch frame could not be found, except second hand and steel. Similarly, good wheels and tyres and tubes were no longer available in 27-inch size. So I had to buy new wheels, a new cluster and a new bottom bracket, and it was cheaper to buy a whole new set of pedals and chain-rings than to buy just new chain-rings and bolt them onto the old pedals. Finally I decided to build a new bike complete and leave the existing bike intact as a spare. There were a number of other worries and glitches before the thing finally commenced its trials on September 27. It carried a number of old parts and bits and pieces, but nothing that wasn't as light as it could be, and nothing that wasn't in sound mechanical condition. The major and important components for mechanical efficiency were new and of top quality.

By the time this ride started the new bike had only done 78 km of trials but was working perfectly and justifying the time and money spent on it.

DAY 1, Midland - Mundaring

SUNDAY 10 OCTOBER 1999

I took the train to Midland and started riding at 11:30, 78. After a few km I rode up Greenmount Hill, This was a good test for the new bike. I stopped once just to straighten up for a minute, after which I had caught my second wind and got up the rest of the hill with no trouble. The continuous ascent measured 5.8 km from Darling Range lodge to Bilgoman Road. I reached Mundaring at 12:30, 95. I rode on to the Travellers' Rest motel, 96, checked into Unit 3, had a swim in the pool, showered and changed, then, as when I have stayed there before, went on a bush walk behind the motel, to find the rare blue orchids that showed in such profusion in 1993. I didn't find any. Then I rode to Sawyers' Valley, 99, to spend the afternoon with Sharen and Les and kids. Les and I discussed bikes and built Diana a serviceable bike out of parts of three bikes that were lying around with some parts working and some not.

I cycled back to Mundaring to get sweet and sour sliced chicken and fried rice for dinner, then settled down in the unit for the evening. The motel was good value for money; the charge of $50 included a light breakfast with fresh eggs, and the use of a washing machine and swimming pool.

Reading at Travellers' Rest Motel: 105 km. Day's ride: 27 km. Speed to Mundaring: 17 kph.

DAY 2, Mundaring - York

MONDAY 11 OCTOBER

The morning was cool and cloudy with a light E headwind. This was to be the first big test of the ride, of the new bike and myself. I left Travellers Rest Motel at 8:15, 105, and reached The Lakes roadhouse at 8:55, 120. I had a drink and a rest then took the Great Southern highway. I rested again at 140, and as luck would have it found by the side of the road several of the rare blue orchids that I hadn't found on my walk behind Travellers Rest Motel the previous afternoon. I rested again at 156, then reached the Avon motel in York at 11:39, 167. On the downhill run into York I exceeded 50 kph and had trouble holding the bike on a straight course. There wasn't anything the matter with it and the problem wasn't so bad in subsequent days. I just had to get used to the different handling of the new machine, and stow the luggage tighter.

After the usual rest and shower I went to look at the old (haunted?) Hospital and the Residency Museum, but they only open for very limited hours which don't include Mondays. So I just went back and looked at the motor museum again - always worthwhile, and I hadn't seen it since 1993. During the afternoon there was a performance of the St. Matthew Passion of J.S.Bach on ABC FM, most of which I enjoyed despite the poor reception in the York area.

I had been worrying about whether to try for Pingelly the next day - it would be 86 km, a bit further than I usually like to go in one day, but reaching Pingelly on Day 3 was the key to subsequent options; also there was a modern motel there, unlike Brookton with its old run-down pub in which I had stayed in 1993. I decided to book the Pingelly motel, then if I were really stuck I would have the option of stopping at Brookton or even Beverley if things got that bad.

I made some more telephone calls and did some shopping, then bought duck and plum sauce from the Chinese takeaway and went back to the motel, Unit 1 ($55 including light breakfast).

Reading at York: 167km. Day: 62 km. Cumulative 89 km, 44 km/day. Speed TRM to York: 18.2 kph.

DAY 3, York - Pingelly

TUESDAY 12 OCTOBER

The morning was cool and cloudy with a light N drift. I left the motel at 735, 167, and cycled east until I reached the start of the Top Beverley road, seeking to save a couple of km and avoid heavy traffic.

I rested at 190. The wind was very light, from the NW. I rode on through Beverley, 198, without stopping, and rested again at 213, by which time the wind had gone around to the SW, right against me, but it was still gentle. I reached Boddington at 11 am, 232. I had a long rest and drink here. I felt good and the bike was perfect, and the word 'doddle' occurred to me as I faced the last 20 km into Pingelly, which I reached at 253, 12:20.

The motel units were a row of fibro cabins built next to the roadhouse, but they lacked nothing in facilities and everything worked. My unit was No. 11. The tariff was $40 a night.

Later I went for a walk around the town and did the usual shopping and telephone calls. I booked the Wickepin Hotel for the next day. According to the forecast there was to be a NW wind, strengthening, but there wouldn't be rain until later.

I went back up the highway to have a look around the cemetery that I had passed on the way into town. There were many twin graves of married couples in which the man was up to 30 years older than the wife but had died much younger than she, leaving her a widow for 40 or 50 years. There was a set of three graves of the Jones family, side by side. Ivy, the daughter, had died at the age of only 15, on 28 November 1916. John, the father, had died on 18 December 1939, aged 79. Hannah, the mother, had died on 5 December 1963, aged 92. There was mention of a son, Jack, but his grave was not there. Perhaps he lives yet?

The Boyles were buried beside each other. Mum had lived from 1880 to 1922 and borne 12 children. Dad had lived from 1870 to 1941.

I inspected the war memorial and noted that 71 people from the Pingelly district had died in World War I, but only 13 in World War II.

If I seem to be preoccupied with cemeteries and memorials in these towns, it is partly because these are interesting, but also because of my apprehension that most of these towns have more past than future, unlike the booming towns in the southwest corner.

I had the mixed grill in the roadhouse.

Reading at Pingelly: 253 km. Day's ride: 86. Aggregate: 175 km. km/day 58. Kph, York to Pingelly: 17.

DAY 4, Pingelly - Wickepin

WEDNESDAY 13 OCTOBER

I left Pingelly for Wickepin at 8:13, 253, on a cool cloudy morning with a fresh NW wind. There were only a few spots of rain on the journey and I did not need to shelter. I rested at 272 and 292 and reached Wickepin at 11:18, 311. After a climb up from Pingelly, the country was undulating and nice and green with lots of flowers. Herds of sheep galloped away from me. They seem more worried by a bike than by motor traffic.

The hotel was adequate but run-down - doors didn't fit and were hard to open and shut, window fastenings and fly-screens were broken, renovations half-done and left some years ago. The bed in Room 3 sagged in the middle and I had to fold a couple of blankets under the mattress to ensure a straight posture for sleep. But there was hot water and a rotary hoist out the back for me to hang my daily washing. The accommodation was geared to workers who started and finished work early and wanted somewhere adequate and cheap to sleep with a bar to buy beer. The tariff was $30 which included a 'light' breakfast, any amount of cereal and toast to which you could help yourself any time you woke up, in the guest lounge. This contained a TV and a number of old chairs and couches, some on a raised platform at one end. The only window was near the ceiling, 3 metres up. Some old magazines and a couple of newspapers from the previous week lay around. There was a fridge for milk and guests' stuff that might need to be kept there overnight. I put my next day's drinks in there.

I had to make a decision as to where to go the next day. The forecasts and my own senses told of a wet night and probably day ahead. I had been poring over my topographical survey map with the idea of going down to Dumbleyung, but it seemed from other sources of information that the 'roads' on that map, that appeared to provide a 60 - 70 km journey to Dumbleyung over empty country, were mostly gravel or dirt, of uncertain quality, and it didn't look like a good idea to try it. But if I turned back to Narrogin now the ride would be a failure. Perhaps I would have to try for Kulin after all then come back through the same towns and the same roads I had just come through. I obviously prefer to avoid that, to go back a different way. I didn't have time to go from Kulin down to Kukerin then to Dumbleyung and Wagin - the ride would have got too long.

While in the deli buying drinks I had picked up a tourist guide to the Shire of Wickepin, giving information on accommodation, among other things. I was surprised to find that there was a hotel, the Oasis, at Harrismith, one of the numerous dots on the map that my eye had slid over while poring over maps in York and Pingelly, to decide the route my ride would take. I had never heard of the place until then. The hotel is being renovated and is open again because Harrismith is the remains of a town in the middle of a recently established wildflower reserve and they are trying to develop its tourist potential.

After Harrismith I could come back via Tincurrin and Toolibin to Narrogin, presumably in better weather, thereby not using any roads already travelled or revisiting any towns. Even if, as seemed likely on this Wednesday evening, rain poured down all the next day, the distance was less than 50 km and there would be a strong tailwind. Based on past experience it was quite manageable. So I decided to go to Harrismith. This would not be the first ride on which the goal would not be decided until well into the ride, but it was the first ride where I had not even heard of the goal before starting out.

I took a walk around Wickepin. The west was growing darker grey and the wind was brisk but rain hadn't yet started to fall. There was a tourist information guide in a little park. I carefully corrected some of the country spelling. There was a boarded up railway station which wouldn't have seen passengers for many years, but trains still run on the track and work was being done on it. I crossed the track and explored an area of scrub and wildflowers and long grass around a little creek with rocks. A sign told how this used to be an important source of fresh water in the district. It was the original reason for the establishment of the settlement. I came up behind what looked like a church or country hall but when I got around the front I found it was now being used as a private home.

I went back to the deli to buy a postcard. All the postcards of Wickepin were snaps, with 'Wickepin WA' printed on them, taken by an amateur, of people doing things to sheep. While I was there a woman came into the shop, lost control of the door in the strong wind and crashed noisily to the floor. The proprietor was most anxious. "Oh, you poor thing! There's nothing of you, either! Are you all right?" She warned me to be careful on my way out.

Light rain began to fall and the wind became very strong, so I called it a day and scuttled inside the hotel.

I had cajun chicken fettucine in the bar for dinner. This was the best dinner of the trip, but it took more than an hour to arrive. In these country pubs priority must be given to the regulars coming in for their evening beer, not to strangers who drop into town on bicycles and only stay one night.

I watched TV in the cold, rather depressing guest lounge after dinner. There was an interesting program on the Galapagos islands. The expected rain began and fell all night, heavily at times. The wind was strong and cold and the road ran with water when I peeped outdoors just before bed.

Reading at Wickepin: 311. Day: 58 km. Cumulative 233 km. kpd 58. kph. Speed to Wickepin: 19 kph.

DAY 5, Wickepin - Harrismith

THURSDAY 14 OCTOBER

The morning was cold and sunny with strong WSW turning to NW winds. I left the Wickepin Hotel at 8:41. The going was easy, as expected, and I didn't need to shelter for the whole journey. Large storms passed to the north and south of me but I was in a corridor of clear weather and frequent sunshine the whole way. This was amazing luck. I had expected a day of general cloud cover with general rain, but this had already broken up into avoidable belts and patches of heavy rain moving across the land with wide spaces of clear weather. I rested at 327 and 343 and rolled into Harrismith as expected at 357, 11:03. At 348 I passed the junction of the road that goes south to Toolibin. The sign said Harrismith 19, Narrogin 47. So it seemed that Narrogin was 66 km from Harrismith by this route.

The hotel was noisy with the TV and radios of builders working on the hotel and the proprietors cleaning inside. I apologised for being early, but it wasn't a problem. The lady introduced herself as Jane, shook hands and showed me my room and the shared bathroom, then made me a cup of coffee. She explained that they were doing the place up and apologised for any inconvenience. She showed me a whole album of photographs of the renovation process. Next morning I bought one of these in lieu of a postcard. It was taken in June 1999, 4 months before I got there. I was running low on film in my camera.

The floors were of broad planks, highly polished. There were no keys yet to any of the rooms but I was told that this didn't matter out in the country. I could lock my door from the inside if I wanted - it was a Yale lock with a keyhole outside and a small handle inside. At the other end of the room a glass-paned door led directly outside. It closed by means of an old brass latch. The wind was very strong and I was asked to keep this door closed otherwise the hinges could get broken. Only one of the beds was made up and Jane said she would make up the other one if I chose it, but I chose the one nearest the glass-paned door for the light and air. It had no blankets, only a sheet and a thin doona.

I locked the bike up just outside my room, Room 3, on the verandah, since there were two beds in the room and no space for a bike. It would not get wet since it was in a sheltered space beside the bathrooms.

I had a rest and shower then went to find the wildflower reserve. It was a large area surrounding a cruciform airstrip, the only airstrip in the shire of Wickepin. The windsock strained against its pole, showing a strong northwesterly. The town's water tank was nearby on the highest point. The day was sunny but the wind still very strong and increasingly cold. I enjoyed a couple of hours rambling this way and that along the tracks through the wildflowers. I didn't find a single orchid but there was a rich variety of other stuff, which I cannot name, not being a botanist, but I enjoyed looking at it. I seemed to have arrived at the peak flowering time and the previous night's rain had brightened everything up. One notable feature of this whole area was the lack of trees. Of course any trees near the airstrip would have had to be removed but there were still none at a great distance from the runways. I think that the whole reserve used to be cleared agricultural land which had been reclaimed to form the wildflower reserve.

A white thing sticking up out of the scrub caught my attention and I pushed towards it. It was a small Cessna plane flipped over on its back beside one branch of the airstrip. One wing was crumpled but the propeller was undamaged. The plane belonged to Ozetours Safaris. I thought it must have been flipped over by the previous night's winds, but the album at the hotel had a picture of it so it must have been like that for a few days at least. A car came out to look at it while I was there. They must be still figuring out how to set it the right way up again.

I used up the last of my camera film and would not be able to get any more until Narrogin. I should have bought a disposable camera in York.

At last I left the wildflowers and went to look around the town. There was little of it but signs and markers told of more in former days. In front of one large area were the words 'LEST WE FORGET HARRISMITH SCHOOL 1925 - 1971' spelt out in coloured stones set into the ground, in front of a stone cairn with a brass plaque saying that this was the site of the Harrismith School. There was a bare patch of ground, then behind that was a rectangle of bitumen, cracked all over and nibbled at the edges, with, still discernible, white lines and circles such as used to be marked for netball on old bitumen playgrounds. I walked on this sole remnant of the school thinking of 46 years of children playing, shouting, eating sandwiches, bullying and forming cliques, and lining up quietly for queen's birthdays and prize-givings, on this patch of ground.

More markers told of former tennis courts and other buildings and facilities. An area of rotting broken fencing and rusting wire, overgrown with tall wild oats, was marked 'Harrismith Sale Yards'. There was a large playing field that looked rough and unmown, but the cricket wicket was a new-looking strip of carpet and as I looked around I saw that the pavilion was new. I inspected this - it was only built a few years ago and the Harrismith Cricket Club is alive and well.

As I walked around the trees looked different from the ones closer to the coast - they looked more like the trees you see ghosting past the windows as the Indian Pacific train glides eastwards on its first evening.

When I got back to the Hotel I told them I had found no orchids, and they said, oh, they're all down beyond the trees, the other side of the paddock, on the flat ground. I didn't feel like searching for them, unfamiliar as I was with the area. I wouldn't have time the next morning, as I wanted to leave early to tackle the second Challenge Day of the ride.

I wanted to go back to Narrogin by the southern route, through Tincurrin, where there was a shop, and Toolibin, so that I would not repeat any of the road so far taken. It seemed that this would involve more than 20 km of dirt road, and the people at the hotel confirmed this, said it was more like 25 km. They said it was bad when it was wet because it got muddy and soft, but it wasn't any worse than the beginning of it that I had seen branching off at right angles to the road that I had come in on that morning. I walked on it and the surface seemed good and it was inevitable that I would try it. I prepared myself mentally for a journey of 70 km to Narrogin with a headwind, but coming from the SW and not too strong.

I watched the Zimbabwe test cricket match on Sky TV in the bar for a while, then ordered Devil Wing Dings and a pie with chips and salad for dinner. I ordered this in the bar but took it into the dining room for convenience. I bought a couple of bottles of Powerade at the same time, for the next day's long effort. Afterwards I went back into the bar and had another lemon lime and bitters and watched more of the cricket, also studied the notice board. This little pub was obviously an important community centre in this bit of Deep Country. There were notices about the forthcoming Wickepin 1999 Bug Bash, a giant party which happens once a year on Wickepin Oval. There were several posters advertising canola swathing, ram sales, mulesing, drenching and so on.

As I went to bed and had to go outside to get to the shower I was glad to find that the wind had dropped to a light SW drift. The forecast had told of a clear day for the Friday with rain developing late in the day, by which time I expected to be comfortably indoors.

It was very cold and I borrowed the doona off the other bed before retiring.

Reading at Harrismith: 357. Km for day: 46. Aggregate: 279. Km per day: 56. Kph to Harrismith: 19.7.

DAY 6, Harrismith - Narrogin

FRIDAY 15 OCTOBER

This loomed as the second challenge day of the trip, though more so than Day 3. I thought that if I made Narrogin on this day it would get progressively easier and I would get home all right. I was dismayed to find when I awoke that the wind had freshened again and was nearly as strong as the day before, and shifting NW. It looked as though another strong rain system was moving in, though the morning was sunny. Clouds gathered as the day went on.

I went into the hotel kitchen and made my breakfast. Another man was staying at the hotel and was doing the same. We sat and ate breakfast and read some of the papers that were lying about.

I went to have a hot shower but someone was already using one of the showers and only one of them can work at a time, so I had to wait shivering until he had finished. After packing up I left the hotel at 8:19, 357, rode out of town and turned left onto the dirt road, 358. The going was not hard - the surface was good, just damp enough for it to be firm without being soft, and the NW wind actually helped a bit over the first few km where the road heads a bit S. I reached Tincurrin at 368 - there was 1 km of sealed road extending either side of this small locality. The shop was open and the proprietor was busy packing envelopes with what looked like some local newsletter. I bought a small choc milk to have further on. He said 'just a little choc milk' as I paid him. Perhaps I should have explained that there wasn't room on my bike otherwise I would have bought his entire stock.

I rested at 374. About a quarter of the journey was done and I felt good, the road was no problem and the wind was manageable, I was comfortable and making reasonable speed. The road ran close beside the railway line which is good because such roads are usually quite level, for obvious reasons.

The dirt road ended at 384. I stopped briefly to check the map, to make sure that I wasn't misinterpreting the intersection, and was reassured that the sealed road I was about to take was the correct one. I crossed the railway line and rested at 390 and checked the map. The road would not be close to the railway line for a long way so I could expect some hills from now on. I was at an intersection where the road went east, west and north. The sign post said 'Narrogin 38' and I had come 33 km, so the journey was 71 km. My guess was pretty right. My stop was just north of Taarblin Lake, and as I went on my way the road rose and I beheld the lake, a bleak expanse of grey water under the grey sky with thousands of dead trees sticking out of it.

I rested again at 406, on the bank where the road ran on an old wooden bridge across a tumbling creek. This was the Yilliminning River. It seemed a picturesque place to stop until the big mosquitoes found me. They took heavy casualties but I decided to get going. I had not put the Aerogard, bought in Pingelly, in my back pack where I could easily get it.

When I had done 57 km, at 414, I passed a sign that said 'Harrismith 56 Narrogin 12'. So the journey was now 68 km, or 69 for me. Taking the south road had added a km to the distance. I rested at 418, at the top of a rise, then reached the railway crossing to enter Narrogin at 427. This was 70 km from Harrismith.

I had decided to stay in one of the motels rather than an old hotel in the centre of town. But both the motels are some way out of, and uphill from, the centre of Narrogin, on the Williams Road. I had chosen the Narrogin Motel because it was slightly closer to the town centre and advertised 'spa's'. After a stiff climb with weary legs but the bike still going beautifully I reached the motel at 4:29, 12:17.

The door to Reception was locked and I had to knock before a filipina lady opened it for me. The place was open for business all right but they keep the door locked.

I got into Unit 37, then went to look for the 'spa's'. There were none. I checked the information kit in the unit and there was no mention of any spa. But they are building a pool near the rotary hoist so I will give the place another try next time.

After a rest and shower I walked down into town for some shopping. On the way I passed the impressive war memorial in a pleasant park. I bought a camera in the post office, then went to hunt for better maps. In a newsagent I found one called 'Outer Perth Region' which gave the whole area I was about to travel in complete detail. I hadn't been able to find this in Perth. It was a great help in days to come. I bought a postcard, then looked about for a supermarket. I could not find one. I had a vague memory of one in a new centre built, as often in country towns, behind the old main street. I went to the Chemist shop and while there asked a woman where Coles was. She was a bit startled to be approached by a strange man but was quite friendly when she realised that I was not a threat. She gave me detailed directions.

I went to Coles for my usual shopping. While in the checkout queue I saw the young woman again. She smiled and said "Well, you made it all right then!"

I took a few photographs around the town, then walked back to the motel. Then with the sun going down I rode back to get Chicken Treat. I passed the police station with no lights on my bike. By the time I rode back it was nearly dark.

Rain fell that night, but not as much as on Wednesday night.

Reading at Narrogin, end of day:431. Day's ride: 74 km. Aggregate: 353. Km/day: 59. kph to motel: 15.6.

DAY 7, Narrogin - Williams

SATURDAY 16 OCTOBER

The day was cold and the wind was SW and moderate to fresh as I rolled away from the Narrogin motel at 9:30.

It was only 31 km to Williams by the shortest road so I decided to take the long way to look at the southern part of the Dryandra forest. I took the Narrogin-Congelin Road and reached the junction with Bradford Road, 446, and took a break. At this point I was going to decide whether to go further west and link up with Rosedale Road, or just go straight down Bradford Road to join Clayton Road and proceed to Williams. The roads to the west would be gravel and they didn't look all that good at the start, so I decided to take Bradford Road.

I was feeling relaxed about this day so I didn't take enough care about reading the map or ascertaining my direction, so I went straight down the road indicated by the sign in the picture, ignoring a sign that showed a T-junction with a road going off to the left. I assumed without checking that I was going south. The map showed that 5 km should bring me to Clayton Road, which would be sealed at that point, but after only 3 km I came to a T-junction with a gravel road. Obviously this wasn't right. I figured out that I was heading west, not south, so I turned left and hoped that I would eventually reach Clayton Road. After one km, during which the road turned west again, I came to two choices - a left turn that was impossible because of a locked farm gate, or a continuation west up a rough track into the forest that was clearly untrafficable. I just had to turn back. I checked the map and found that it was quite correct, the mistake was all mine. The last km I had cycled wasn't even marked on it. I should have turned left at the T-junction just after the 'Bradford Road Exchange' sign.

I rode back to this point, at which the odometer read 454, so I had added 8 unnecessary km to my journey. Still, it was pleasant enough. I took that turn, and reached the sealed section of Clayton road at 459. I turned right and passed the Rosedale Road junction at 462, then rested at 465. The road turned to gravel at 466, became sealed again at 473, gravel again at 476. I came to a sealed road going off to the right. It had a name but wasn't marked on the map. But a pipeline lay ahead of me and I could see and hear traffic going up and down a busy road beyond that. The map showed that I was just short of the Williams Road, and indeed I reached that at 478, turned right and reached the Williams motel at 481, 1:00.

The motel was part of an accommodation area that included a caravan park and camping ground. There was a clothes line that I could use, and a pool. Next to it was a petrol station that was also a shop and roadhouse-restaurant and one could make telephone calls there. The town of Williams was just across the bridge over the Williams River. I got into my unit, had a rest and the usual cup of tea. The day was cold and windy and I felt tired and didn't go for a swim that afternoon. I went and did my shopping, booked the next two stays at Boddington and Dwellingup, just to make sure I could get in (when I made the Williams booking the man said, I think we're fully booked, oops, no, you're lucky, there's been a cancellation) then walked around the town.

There was an old house, one of the oldest in the state, built in 1860. It had not been restored because it had never been derelict in all that time. It was open for inspection. It stood next to an area with several ancient farm buildings and a creek at the bottom of the slope. I walked through the town and along the river, then went around and saw an old church, still in use. The door wasn't locked so I looked inside and inspected some of the plaques with names of long-dead members of the congregation who had contributed to it.

I could have gone to the restaurant but wanted to eat in my unit so that I could enjoy Saturday night television. I went to the Roadhouse but the menu was rather limited. I took a cheese sausage, a chicken cheese and bacon sausage and a sausage roll back to the unit. I worried that I was getting away from my usual healthy diet and determined to have more fruit, vegetables and salads during subsequent days. I also bought a couple of cakes for breakfast.

Reading at Williams: 481. Day's ride 50 km. Aggregate: 403. Kpd 58. Speed Narrogin to Williams: 14.3 kph.

DAY 8, Williams - Boddington

SUNDAY 17 OCTOBER

I left the motel at 8:30 on a cold sunny morning with a SE wind. I had risen at 7 and jumped straight into the pool without stopping to think whether I felt like it or not. The bracing experience was a great benefit. Some old ladies had been sitting well wrapped up at tables near the pool and screamed at my 'bravery'.

I went down the road that leads through Quindanning. I could have taken a shorter way, straight up the Albany highway to a place called Crossman, then left onto Crossman Road and so into Boddington. I preferred the Quindanning way because it promised to be more scenic and I wanted to look at Quindanning, last visited in 1989, and the Boraning historic cemetery beside the road 9 km before that.

I rested at 500, then stopped to look at the cemetery at 506. The cemetery was in two parts, the smaller one about 100 metres west of the larger part, both right beside the road in an otherwise empty paddock. The majority of the graves were of members of only a few families. Several generations had been buried here, starting around the turn of the century. The usual pattern was evident, of husbands much older than their wives, dying many years sooner. By studying all the names and dates on the graves it would be possible if one wanted to draw up a family tree.

I didn't know why the cemetery was in two widely separated parts. As I trudged over the rough ground and weeds between the two I sensed an alienation, a chill, as though this distance represented a hostility between these two groups of people that died with them, long ago.

I passed through Quindanning, 517, slowly but without stopping, just looking at the buildings. I responded to the cheery 'Good Morning!" of a woman in her garden opposite the hotel. It could have been the same person who had been running the hotel ten years before. I rested at 518 and as I strolled about beside the road a small flatbed truck stopped and the guys asked me if I was all right. I said yes, thanks, everything was fine, I was just having a drink break. The man laughed and said I would need it because there was a big hill up ahead. I thanked him (thinking, what might be a big hill to them is probably quite easy) and they went on. I waved at them as I rode past where they were stopped up ahead.

I did not remember this road very well from 1989, but the men weren't wrong about the hill.

It was quite a challenge and went on for several kilometres. I was rising into some high country because after I got to the top the road levelled out but I didn't get a downhill rush. Ahead and to the left I could see a big hill, blue with distance. I assumed that the road would go past it rather than over it but there might yet be more climbing.

I passed a house where a woman was sitting on her front step, enjoying the cool sunny day. She was wearing gloves as though to do some gardening. We waved at each other. About a kilometre further on I came to a road junction at 535 and took another rest.

Why did I go past places before taking a rest? Because the combination of the cool weather, physical exertion and my fear of dehydration causing me to take frequent drinks, made me need frequent breaks for another reason.

The bike was still going perfectly - I hadn't even had to pump the tyres. I rolled through lovely scenery, green and flowering with lots of birds. At this stage in the ride I felt totally disconnected from my normal life - work seemed unreal, an age and a world away.

At 543 I climbed an incline to a T-junction. The left road led to Dwellingup, the right to Boddington. I had taken the left road in 1989, but I didn't recognise this junction - it looked like quite new work. I took the right turn and soon passed a sign 'BD 5'. There was a long steep hill to climb, then finally a downhill run to another T-junction - left was Farmers' Road, right was Marradong Road, the main street of the town.

I was dismayed as I reached the corner of Bannister and Marradong roads to see a nice new motel there, the Boddington Motel. Dismayed, because it hadn't occurred to me that Boddington might have a motel and I hadn't bothered to look it up. I didn't know that this was an up-and-coming tourist town and I had been glad that it even had a hotel, which I had already booked. I wondered if I could cancel that booking and get into the motel instead. I had visions of a dark, smelly country pub with sagging beds, jammed windows and doors, shared plumbing and a shared broken-down TV permanently tuned to GWN. When I could have had a modern motel unit.

I was therefore delighted to find that the 'rooms' of the Boddington hotel (reached at 550, 12:25) were modern units with all mod cons, in a separate block from the little single-storey hotel. They were only $40 a night and lacked nothing.

I took a ride up and down the main street of town before stopping at the hotel, just to see what was there. This was my first visit to Boddington, that I remember. I might have been taken there as a child but if so I've forgotten.

After my rest, shower and washing I walked down Marradong Road, did my shopping and checked out the food places for dinner later. I made some telephone calls. I was impressed by the Hotham River and spent some time in the park alongside it, enjoying the views and taking pictures. Then I walked along the path as it led westwards away from the town, through a nature and recreational reserve. I saw several yellow orchids. They made up for the ones I hadn't seen at Harrismith.

As evening drew in I went down the road to order a pizza from the big modern pizza shop. I had checked it earlier - it was closed but the owner had been there and told me that he opened about 5. I was surprised that such a shop was there at all, even more that it opened on Sunday evenings. When I went in to order my pizza there were no other customers. I had a whole large one, all to myself, with meat and vegetables and pineapple. It was excellent but some hours after eating it, in the early morning, I awoke with a raging thirst.

Settled down to watch Sunday night television, including the first episode of the excellent dinosaur program on ABC. I took a walk in the cold silent main street for a while before retiring.

Reading at Boddington: 551 km. Day's ride: 70 km. Aggregate: 473 km. Km/day: 59. Speed Williams to Boddington: 17.7 kph.

DAY 9, Boddington - Dwellingup

MONDAY 18 OCTOBER

I left the Boddington Hotel at 9:07 on a cool fine sunny morning with light ESE winds. This would be an easy day. The wind was mainly behind me and the country was getting more forested. I had thought of taking an alternative route to get to the T-junction before taking the Dwellingup Road, or even bypassing the T-junction by going even further along the back tracks before joining the Dwellingup Road, but it seemed that those back tracks would be gravel and might be hilly, so I just went out of Boddington the same way I had come in, giving me a long climb, then a nice downhill run to the T-junction.

I rested at 568 and 586 and arrived in Dwellingup at 603, 12:04. I still hadn't been able to get much on the radio. A row of new motel units and a pool had been constructed since I last stayed here in 1994. I got into No. 6. It was very spacious and windows could be opened and all had insect screens. The TV was secured to a swivelling bracket on the wall.

After my rest I went and plunged into the pool, then showered and put on my other clothes. I hung my washing, including the venerable canvas backpack, on the rotary hoist next to the pool.

I had seen on the map: 'POW camp' so I decided to go and have a look. It was marked beside Walmster Road which runs west from Del Park Road, the main road north out of Dwellingup. I rode off in the cool afternoon. I reached the point where Walmster Road was supposed to start, missed it and the clear sign 'POW Camp' on the right-hand side of Del Park Road, went down Spur road for quite a way before deciding that I must go back and have another look. Before doing so I took a walk through the forest and found some more orchids.

Back at Del Park Road I found Walmster Road, rough gravel, couldn't ride the first part of it. I went about a kilometre and a half and came to a large clearing on the right. It was being used as farmland, might always have been farmland. There was what looked like the remains of wooden buildings, near the road. I could have gone on, gone around and come back into Dwellingup by joining up with the road from Pinjarra, but the gravel track was blocked by a huge puddle and the surface didn't look very good beyond that, so I decided just to go back the way I had come.

For the second time in two days I had avoided adventures that I might have chanced a few years ago. It was near the end of the ride and it would all be easy from now on, and if I had ended up trudging the bike along rough tracks in gathering twilight, so what? It is easy to write that now, but at the time I just didn't feel like taking the rough unknown tracks. I hope I will remember this on future rides and choose the adventure over the laziness.

.Anyway, I had a nice walk in the forest, saw wildflowers and, on the way back to Dwellingup, had a look at some derelict wooden building that was beset by young trees.

I made a few 'phone calls and booked the Mandurah Gates Resort for the next night. I could have, as twice before, gone straight back to Armadale from Dwellingup and caught the train but I preferred to go to Mandurah, have a nice ocean swim and go all the way home up the coast.

I had the seafood platter with chips and salad for dinner.

Reading at Dwellingup, end of day: 614 km. Day's ride: 63 km. Aggregate: 536 km. Km/day: 60. Speed Boddington to Dwellingup: 17.6 kph.

DAY 10, Dwellingup - Mandurah

TUESDAY 19 OCTOBER

After an early morning swim I rode away from the motel at 9:06 on a clear mild morning with easterly winds. I took the steep descent down the scarp with some caution - the bike still was not handling quite so steadily as it should have. I discovered and fixed the cause of this after I got home. I had assembled the cones, collars and bearings on the front fork incorrectly, so the fork always wobbled a bit and sometimes was stiff. The two collars were different - the one on the bottom should have gone on the top, and vice versa. This took a few minutes to fix after I got home and examined it and the thing now works perfectly.

Once on the flat road leading into Pinjarra I found that my gear change down to the smallest cog on the cluster was not working. I stopped for a minute to adjust it with the screwdriver. It worked all right after that, but the gear change on this new bike is still rather sluggish and noisy. I need to shorten the chain, or adjust the angle of the derailleur, or something. I put it all together hastily with guesswork.

I arrived in Pinjarra, 639, at 10 o'clock and bought a drink. While at the shop I spoke to two cyclists, a middle-aged man and a boy, who were dressed in the best cycling gear and had two very flashy bikes. They were having their drinks sitting outside the shop. I asked them where they were heading, and the man said they were training. They seemed hot, stressed and unhappy and not inclined to conversation.

I was in no hurry. I sat for a while with my drink and map in the park by the river. Eventually I left Pinjarra at 10:37, 640, and arrived in Mandurah, opposite the old Brighton Hotel, at 11:26, 660. I rode up through the town to the Mandurah Gates Resort, 661.

They did not usually allow check-in before 1 pm but the woman just rang the housemaid to check if my unit, Unit 12, was ready, and it was, so I went down there. I was settling in when a key rattled in the lock and the housemaid burst in. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she said. "I was just checking if the room was ready!" She went around, tea and coffee, yes, soap, yes, OK. Then she left. I thought the room had already been checked some time ago, before I got into it. I organised a load of laundry and went to the laundry area, put it in the machine and started the automatic cycle. Then I went back to my unit. I was wearing only my cycle pants when the key rattled in the lock again and the housemaid burst in again. "Oh, I'm sorry! So sorry! I meant to go into Unit 13!" She smiled at me and left again. It occurred to me that she might fancy me. Maybe some women like scruffy middle-aged cyclists. But she would have been half my age if that. Any way I just finished my laundry and went to the beach at the end of Stewart Street. The water was most refreshing and not too rough but not as clear as last year - it was discoloured, perhaps by run-off from the above average October rain in the south-west.

After my swim I went back to MGR and jumped into the cool pool, then into the warm spa for a long soak.

There wasn't a bath in my unit like there had been in 1998 but I enjoyed a hot shower and used the complimentary shampoo. I put on my clean clothes and went for a look around the shops, and a look at the old Brighton hotel with its memories of 1977 and 1979. I have not stayed there since 1997, though up to that time I had made a point of staying there with each visit to Mandurah. In 1997 they were letting it run down while putting the prices up. No doubt this was due to the increasing price of the site and development plans for it, but if I am going to stay in run-down accommodation with sagging beds I want it cheap. If I am going to pay a lot I want decent accommodations, sentiment about 1977 or no.

The Mandurah Gates Resort, besides being modern and well-appointed and closest to the town's best ocean beach, is surrounded by five restaurants and a bowling alley and a church. I went to dine at the Chinese smorgasbord, still as good as last year. Dining out on the last night is a tradition that goes back to 1977. After that I watched a bit of television, then had another spa and retired to bed.

Reading at Mandurah: 661 km. Day's ride: 47 km. Aggregate: 583 km. Km/day: 58. Speed Pinjarra to Mandurah: 24.3 kph.

DAY 11, Mandurah - Cottesloe

WEDNESDAY 20 OCTOBER

I was up early to get the lavish 'continental' breakfast included in the room price, before the dining room got too crowded. There was all the toast and cereal you could eat, also fresh fruit and fruit juices and coffee.

I didn't go for an ocean swim, thinking it would be better to do that when I got home, when I would get more benefit from it. I had a spa, then in a leisurely way prepared to leave. There was no hurry on this last day, the weather was cool and the tailwind might kick up if I left a bit later..

I left the resort at 10:03. I rode up what should have been an easy road, a light breeze at my back, but the going seemed very hard. It was like riding constantly uphill. The bike seemed OK, wasn't making any funny noises. I thought, what's wrong with me? I should be racing along! I passed the familiar landmarks, then decided to turn off and take the old Mandurah Road, not taken since 1977. About a kilometre into this I was 20 km out of Mandurah so decided to stop and take my drink break. I was hot and panting. I had finished my drink and was about to get going again when I checked the bike. The back wheel was stiff! I found that the back rack had slid down so far that it was sitting on the back brake and pressing one of the blocks onto the wheel rim. I had ridden 20 km with the brake half on. That explained things.

I got the trusty length of wire that I use to hold the bag on the back rack, but which can do many other useful jobs on a Ride, e.g. TV aerial, clothes line, and used it to suspend the back rack firmly from the underneath of the saddle, well away from the brake and the hub and gears. After that my riding proceeded with the expected ease and celerity. I enjoyed the old road, it was not so busy and there were a lake and wooded country beside it, and in fact it is about a kilometre shorter than taking Ennis avenue and going through all those ghastly depressing new suburbs described in previous Ride stories. I missed them altogether and came out near Naval Base shops. I took another drink break here, buying a nice cool choc milk in the shop. I had to join a queue because it was just noon and the workers from the industries nearby were coming to get their cribs.

After that I took the familiar Cockburn Road through Coogee. I didn't stop again. I remembered 1998 when I was suffering physically at this point and could hardly move when I got home, and 1996 when the ratchet on the gears was about to fail and and I was lucky to get home. This time in 1999 both bike and body were in good shape and enjoying the day.

I arrived home at 1:18, 726. 3 hours and 15 minutes, not bad considering the light tailwind, not the 1997 gale, and the fact that I had ridden a third of the way with the brake on. The 1999 ride ended as I dismounted the bike outside my back gate.

Final reading at end of ride: 726 km. Km for day: 65. Aggregate: 648. Kpd: 59. Kph to home:

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

Email Charles

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