Bicycle Tours in South Western Australia:

Tenterden - Walpole - Cottesloe

10 days, 610 km [map]

The aim of this trip was to visit the Valley of the Giants again, and to see the tree-top walk built since my last visit in 1987. This time I would go by a reverse route and with some motorised assistance, but none from the Australind train.

PRELIMINARY

Liz had taken possession of her bush cabin at Tenterden in July, and had got into the way of spending several days down there from time to time, so I asked her if one of her visits could be arranged for just after the school holidays, so that she could take me and my bike down there, I could chop wood and do other things, then set off with quite a big head start.

We set off at 7:30 am on Tuesday October 15. Half-way down I realised that I had forgotten my helmet, but bought a better, lighter one on Kojonup for only $35. We had lunch in Kojonup and arrived at Tenterden at about 1 pm.

DAY 1, Tenterden - Mt Barker

WEDNESDAY 16 OCTOBER 2002

I left Liz’ cabin at 2:14 on a mild cloudy afternoon with some rain and a north-westerly gale blowing. The odometer read 1007. Rain fell as I crunched along the 3km or so of gravel tracks to get to the Albany Highway.

When I got to the highway and turned south the wind was a great help, which was good because I didn’t feel well – I had got a cold a few days before and it had reached the stage where one might take a sickie if at work, but I was on holidays and determined to proceed with my plans.

About a dozen km into the ride the main gear cable broke. I made a mental note to fit new cables as well as tyres on future rides, if any. It wasn’t a major problem just now because the wind was so strong that I could get up hills in top gear, but I would have to fit the new cable I had brought with me before going on in subsequent days.

I rested at 1024 and checked the cable. The little knob had broken off the top where the cable goes through the lever. This explained why gears had been hard to change for some days before – the knob would have been in the process of coming off.

As I resumed riding I had another idea – why not get out the spanner and do a quick fix, make the cable do more work before changing it? So I stopped at 1027, at a Westrail bus stop in Kendenup, loosened the cable at the derailleur end, pulled it through, doubled it over at the top, jammed it back in the hole and tightened everything up.

I now had four gears, which in the conditions, was enough to get me to Mt. Barker comfortably. Subsequent adjustments gave me the full seven gears and I had no need to fit the new cable.

I got to Mt. Barker at 4:11, 1041, and checked into the Valley Views motel which I had booked by ‘phone on Saturday. My unit was No. 9 and was called ‘Goundrey’. All the units had names. The unit was comfortable and properly equipped, and there was of all things a hair dryer, which I have never seen in a motel unit before. I used it to dry my washing.

I walked down into the town and looked around and did the shopping for breakfast. I was pleased to see that the Mt. Barker railway station, whose ruined state I had criticised in my account of the 1987 ride, had been repaired and was now an environmental and tourist centre. I telephoned to book the Denmark hotel for Friday.

I walked back to the motel, then rode the bike down the highway to buy duck in plum sauce and fried rice for dinner, from the Wing Hing.

The weather forecast spoke of a great storm that would sweep over the south-west corner the next day, so I resolved to leave early and get to Albany as quickly as possible, before the rain fell and the wind turned.

Reading at Mt.Barker, end of day: 1042 km. Day's ride: 35 km. Speed to Mt. Barker: 17 kph.

DAY 2, Mt Barker - Albany

THURSDAY 17 OCTOBER

I left Mount Barker at 7:40 on a warm sunny morning with a north-westerly gale blowing. The wind would never be this helpful again, and I sort of knew this as I rode along, and enjoyed it while I could.

I rested at 1069 and reached the Ace motel, some 3km from the Albany town centre, at 9:37, 1091. It was way too early for check-in and I acknowledged this to the receptionist and explained why I had rushed down so early. She said it was OK if the room hadn’t been used the night before, she would just check. It was all right, so I moved in. It was Unit 8, $71. I dumped all the heavy luggage and set off to have a swim and a look around the town.

To the west the storm approached. It was clearly going to be a good one – there was a lot of high cloud shining white in the morning sun, but without structure – just a high white mass. It would have terrified me had I been way out in the open country on a quiet road with lots of km to ride, but I was never going to be far from shelter and it looked as though I had a couple of hours clear at least.

I had a town map of Albany and took the way to Middleton Beach, past Dog Rock. The beach was splendid – I wished I had brought my camera – I had left it in the unit. The beach faces east and is in a sheltered bay, so the waves were just gentle swells. I had a glorious swim in the clear water, then lost my way back off the beach and had to walk through the caravan park to the lawn where I had left my bike.

I rode back the way I had come, because I had left the map in the motel and wasn’t sure of the alternative foreshore route back to the town centre. I reached the roundabout and turned left, running down the hill to the waterfront, where I looked at the ship ‘Amity’ and the historic buildings and the disused train station.

Then I crawled back up the hill into the gale, to the shopping centre. The sky was overcast now and rain was spitting. I did my shopping, getting stuff for dinner and breakfast, and rang to book the Walpole hotel for Saturday.

Light intermittent rain fell as I climbed the last 3 km back to the motel. I got back there at about 12:35, wheeled the bike in and shut the door.

The storm moved over soon after and stayed. Rain poured down and the wind blew strong and cold, but I didn’t leave my unit for nearly 21 hours. I settled down to a rare treat of leisure. I had tea and biscuits, then a sleep, then read for a few hours, then dined on salad roll, pork pie and cakes, watched videos, read some more, slept. No need or desire or opportunity to do anything else for nearly a whole day. I haven’t had anything like that for years. My life doesn’t allow it.

Reading at Albany, end of day: 1105km. Day: 63 km. Cumulative 98 km, 49 km/day. Speed Mt. Barker to Albany: 25.1 kph.

DAY 3, Albany - Denmark

FRIDAY 18 OCTOBER

It was only 49 km from the Ace motel to Denmark along the main road, so I didn’t rush. Besides, I assumed that the winds and rain would moderate as the day wore on. I had my breakfast then packed up to get going, but decided to harden up the tyres a little before starting. Unfortunately the valve on the tube on the front wheel stuck and all the air hissed out when I detached the pump. This was a new tube and the valve had stuck when I had first fitted it, but I had oiled it and thought it was fixed. Anyway, I had to take off the wheel and replace the tube. This delayed me and I didn’t roll away from the motel until 9:10.

It seemed simple enough – just go up to the roundabout and take the Denmark road. I went there and turned left where the sign seemed to say Denmark. I rolled down the hill feeling confident, then got to a point where things didn’t make sense. A sign seemed to say that the road I was on led to the ‘town centre’ and there was a railway line where there shouldn’t have been. After peering at the map and studying the area I realised tat I had rolled down Hanrahan Street, and I had to cross the tracks to take the Lower Denmark Road, the scenic route. I did consider climbing the hill I had just rolled down and finding the right road, but then I decided just to take the scenic route.

The road was certainly scenic but very hard on this day, with numerous hills and a strong headwind – a strong wind warning was still current for this stretch of coast, and I was close to the shore. Light showers fell from time to time.

I rested at 1124, 1140 and 1152. There was an easier stretch of about 9km where the road ran straight in a north-westerly direction, so that the wind came from the side and was even fitfully helpful.

A few km from Denmark the rain finally came down strongly, pelting and soaking me. Had I not had to change the tube, or had taken the right road, I should have been in Denmark by now and missed the rain. Anyway, it stopped just before I arrived in the town, at 1:12, 1162.

The motel unit was nice, $55, with an electric heater on which to hang wet and rinsed things. I felt a bit crook with my cold, and after my labours with the weather, so I took a Polaramine and two Aspirin-plus-Codeine and had a most restorative couple of hours’ sleep.

After showering and changing and shopping, I had time to take the walk trail that runs a kilometre south from the bridge, to a footbridge near where the river meets the sea. You cross the footbridge and come back up the other side of the river. I saw pelicans and cormorants and other birds, and on the walk back on the other side I saw a group of orchids which I subsequently identified as cowslip orchids.

When I got back to the park near the bridge, I rang the Quinninup Tavern to see if they offered accommodation. They didn’t, but said there was an ‘ecopark’ behind the tavern where cabins could be rented for the night, and the tavern could supply dinner and bread and drinks. This made me feel more confident about the challenge facing me on Sunday.

I bought a takeaway dinner of chicken, ‘Pollo Mexicana’, from the Bandaleros Restaurant, where they have live music on Fridays (it backed onto my motel unit so I could hear the music and the murmur of conversation and the clatter of cutlery), and settled in to watch movies on TV and read and relax.

Reading at Denmark: 1162 km. Day’s ride: 57. Aggregate: 155 km. km/day 52. Kph, Albany to Denmark: 14.1.

DAY 4, Denmark - Walpole

SATURDAY 19 OCTOBER

I started from Denmark at 8:15. The speedo read 1163 after a visit to the post office. The morning was cool and cloudy with spots of rain and a north-westerly headwind, though not as strong as the day before.

I rested at Pates Road, 1181, and at 1200. I reached Bow Bridge and took the right turn into Valley of the Giants Road at 1205. The country was very pleasant but hilly. I reached the turn-off to Tree Top Walk at 1217 and walked the bike up the steep hill to the entrance, 1218.

Entry to the Walk cost $6 and there was a shop and toilets. The Walk is 600 metres long and very satisfying. I got to the bottom and went around again. You can go around in one direction only, but as many times as you like. I took some photographs.

After that I took the walk track around the various giant tingle trees, many burnt out into a cave in which several people could stand, yet still living and growing. The walk track in 1987 was just trodden earth, but now it is a boardwalk, with platforms built for better viewing of certain features. A young couple asked me to take a picture of them inside one of the trees. It was a digital camera and I stuffed up the first time, had to be instructed to hold the button down firmly. We got it right the second time. I should have got them to take a picture of me inside the tree as well, wth my camera.

The main purpose of the trip having been achieved, it was time to get on to Walpole and face the long grind home.

The timing was good – had I been a day earlier, as I might have done, the Tree Top Walk would have been closed, as it is in bad weather.

After running down the hill and doing the rest of the Valley of the Giants Road I met the South Coastal Highway at 1224. After the gloom of the forest and the dark narrow road I was confronted by a blinding white stretch of four-lane highway. Most of the South Coastal Highway is narrow and winding with poor surface in many places and subsidence at the sides, but bits of it have been fixed up. It didn’t take long for this good bit to peter out.

I reached the Walpole Hotel Motel at 1238, 2:35. On the way into this still small town I passed the Tree Top Walk Motel which I should have booked into, though it was not as close to the shops. It was nice and modern and I don’t know why I missed it while inspecting the accommodation guide.

The Walpole Motel units looked rather bleak, standing in rows on sand and gravel. The unit was adequate, but depressing – it looked like the sort of motel unit you see in movies where someone strings himself up in a lonely motel unit. It was number 32, $55.

I shopped, rested, showered and changed and went for a walk back through the town, then across the road to the park and the heritage trail. While over there I went into the tourist information office and asked about accommodation between here and Manjimup. The man said what I already knew, that Northcliffe was the closest, but he didn’t know about the possibility of a cabin at Quinninup. I asked about farmstay. He said there wasn’t any because there were no farms – the area was all state forest or national park. I mentioned the Chesapeake Road, which I had taken from Northcliffe in 1987, as my solution that year to the ‘Walpole problem’. He told me the Chesapeake road was closed due to the collapse of the bridge. I remembered that there was a bridge over a deep gully with some water in it. Just as well, and pure luck, that I found that out! Had there been a decent easterly the next day I might have taken that road again, though I had already half decided, informed by my experiences since 1987, that it is not worth taking a gravel-road short cut unless the saving in km compared to the sealed road is very substantial. To ride 60 km of gravel is just more trouble than riding 70 km of sealed road.

I had come this far and was no closer to a solution to the ‘Walpole problem’. There would not of course be a problem for a real cyclist, the sort who do 300 km in a day and rush across the continent to raise money, but I am not of that ilk. In the end I decided just to set out the next morning, early, not go too fast, get as far as I could and hope for some luck or a miracle. There has often been a miracle on these rides and it was time for one now. I would trust to the Universe to take care of me.

I had pepper steak and a chicken and vegetable pie, out of packets, for dinner, with some of my store of biscuits and a fresh blackberry and apple pie from the local shop.

Reading at Walpole: 1238. Day: 75 km. Cumulative 231 km. kpd 58. Speed to Walpole: 16.8 kph.

DAY 5, Walpole - Manjimup

SUNDAY 20 OCTOBER

THE MIRACLE (OR WIMP-OUT) OF THE WILDERNESS

I left the motel at 7:45 am on a cool sunny morning, with winds almost calm, developing to a light north-westerly headwind. The day became warmer as I went on. There was a short descent out of Walpole, then a long climb, then a long descent. I reached the turn into the SW highway at Crystal Springs at 1251 in reasonable shape and greeted the SW highway that I would be on until Boyanup. I rested at 1258, again at 1278. There was a hill to climb every km or so and it was all getting too hard. Hills take it out of you and you don’t get it back.

I passed the entrance to the Broke Inlet road, which joins up with the Chesapeake Road. There was no sign saying ‘Road closed - bridge down’ or any such thing. Had I taken that road and come to the collapsed bridge I don’t know what I would have done. My memory of the spot isn’t clear enough to say whether I would have been able to carry the bike across the gully and resume. I probably would have attempted this.

A miracle, strictly speaking, is something which is impossible, according to the laws of physics and the way things happen, yet which happens anyway, like the miracle of the loaves and fishes or turning water into wine, or raising the dead. The miracles I have referred to in the past and describe here, are actually low-probability events which, in their occurrence, break no laws, but represent an unlikely piece of luck.

At 1294, 16 km from the last break and 56 km from Walpole, nearly halfway to Manjimup and 11 km short of Shannon where I might have got some relief, but still nearly 40 km short of Quinninup, I spied a picnic spot on the other side of the road, a stone table and two stone benches. I decided to pull in and have a sit or lie down and recover a bit.

A glint of sun on metal told me that there was a car parked in the spot already, and as I pulled in I saw an old couple having their lunch.

They indicated to me that someone had decorated the stone table with flowers, and I agreed that it looked nice. They told me I looked stuffed, though not in those terms – they were nice Christian old people – and asked where I was going. I told them and they asked if I wanted to be taken to Manjimup.

I said yes, thanks, I could take the front wheel off the bike, and wrap plastic bags around the oily bits, and explained how Liz had put the bike between the front and back seats.

So it was agreed. They gave me half a salad bun they had been about to eat, the last of their bottle of wine and even a cup of coffee. We had a nice chat while all this was happening.

Eventually everything was loaded up and the conversation continued as we did the 60km into Manjimup. We had a great talk about all sorts of things, Bali, my overseas trip, their overseas trip, religion, accents, my job, and so on.

At the Pemberton turn-off the man (we were introduced but I have forgotten their names, as I do!) offered his wife the chance to turn and go to Pemby, but she didn’t take it up. I thought of saying that if they wanted to go there I could manage the last 15 km to Manjimup but we kept going and there was traffic behind us and the moment passed.

When they pulled up and let me out on a park at the outskirts of Manjimup, at 1:15 pm, they waved away my offer of money and said it had been great to meet me, they had really enjoyed my company. I told them I was in the telephone book and they should ring me if they were ever in Perth and needed help with anything. They thought I was a great bloke. I don’t know if I really am. Anyone can be a great bloke for an hour, or even a couple of days. I don’t know if my workmates who have worked with me for 30 years would have a different opinion.

I re-assembled the bike and rode into town. I went to the tourist information office to find the location of the Manjimup Motor Inn, in Mottram Street. The man gave me a town map and showed me where it was. Mottram Street is just the continuation of the SW highway.

I thought of ringing them up to book a unit, in case the sight of a sweaty cyclist with zinc cream on his nose would make them say they were full even if they weren’t. But then I went straight down there and checked in without any trouble.

So, here I was in Manjimup, a day ahead of schedule and with the major stumbling block of the trip overcome. My acceptance of the lift was of course a wimp-out, but I make no excuses for it. I did what I did, I have laid out the facts in this report and the reader can sneer at me if they wish.

The wimp-out or miracle occurred next to the Frankland National Park, between a bridge where the road crosses the Weld River and a smaller bridge where it crosses a small tributary of the Weld.

I tried to sleep for an hour but was coughing so much and was so feverish that it was impossible, so I got up and took a Polaramine and two Codis and showered and changed and went across the tracks into the town.

It is surprising how many shops are open in Manjimup on a Sunday. There were two supermarkets, not major ones but adequate, two bakeries and some cafes. I did my shopping and peered into the old Manjimup Hotel. I had decided against staying here this time because in 1998 it had been a bit run down, and it didn’t look any better now. It has associations with bike rides and memories going back to 1975, but I have got used to better accommodations and I needed them today.

As I walked away from the hotel a man passed me, looking a bit dejected with his bag slung over his shoulder. He turned to me and said “It’s a great life if you don’t weaken”. I agreed, and he walked on for a bit, then turned and asked me if I knew of any other accommodation in town, because he had tried to get into the hotel, but it was full. I said yes, and pointed to the flashing lights on the caravan park shop (‘Manji Central’). I said that just to the left of that was a motel, and I had just checked in and they didn’t seem very busy. He could just walk straight across the tracks. He thanked me and went that way.

The next morning I saw him again, walking past my unit with his bag slung over his shoulder, so he must have got in all right.

I rang up Janet and spent half an hour on the ‘phone. I explained why I hadn’t come through Pemberton, which, had I done so, might have enabled me to visit them as half-promised. We talked of my ride and other things. I rang up the Exchange Hotel at Greenbushes to book a unit for the Monday night.

I finished my shopping and walking around and went back to Manji Central to buy dinner. This shop is open seven days a week from early morning till late at night. I don’t remember it before. It has flashing coloured lights on the front and a cheerful atmosphere and is quite busy. Before going in there I turned and saw a glorious sunset over the town. There were different levels and shapes of cloud, different colours. I watched it for a while, wishing I had brought my camera with me. Then I dashed back to my unit to get the camera, by which time the sunset had changed. I took a quick snap, then thought, oops. I might have got the bag in the way of the lens. So I took another one, then thought, that wasn’t the best position, so I took a third picture. A waste of film. Should have had one of Middleton Beach and another of me inside a Tingle tree.

At Manji Central I ordered a hamsteak burger, a pepper steak pie and a bit of chili chicken. I settled into the unit (Room 30, $50) and relaxed with Sunday night TV.

Reading at Manjimup, end of day: 1297. Km for day: 59. Aggregate: 290. Km per day: 58. Kph to Manjimup: not applicable, and I didn’t note the time of the ‘Miracle’.

DAY 6, Manjimup - Greenbushes

MONDAY 21 OCTOBER

I left Manjimup at 9:17. The wind was still a northwesterly headwind, moderate but freshening. The road from Manjimup to Bridgetown is quite moderate in its hills and I got along all right. I rested at 1315, passed Mersea Road, where I had sheltered from that hailstorm in 1998, and got to Bridgetown at 11:24, 1333. As often before I sat on the wooden seat in Steere Street, had a drink from the nearby shop and thought about where I had been and where I was going, and how I felt about going on. I took a picture of the spot.

I got going again at 12:02, climbed Hester’s Hill for a while then just got off and walked to the summit. I was to do this quite a lot on the hilly road ahead which doesn’t give any relief till you get to Kirup, when it is mostly downhill to Donnybrook. I no longer believe I have to pedal up every hill no matter how hard – I have pedalled up them all over the years and there is nothing left to prove. Better to slow down and be more comfortable.

I rushed down the other side of Hester’s for 2km till I reached the bridge, when the climb starts again, past the pine forest. I walked up a lot of that too. I rushed down the other side and found that I was 11 km from Bridgetown, so that is the point at which these two hills start. I reached the turn-off to Greenbushes at 1349, pushing hard up what I thought was the last hill before an easy run into the town, only to find that the road into the town twisted up yet another hill, so I walked up that too. I rolled to a stop in front of the Exchange hotel at 1351, 1:25.

The Exchange hotel has changed its arrangements, but you can still get the unit and a reasonable dinner and light breakfast for $57.90. The dinner used to be a full three-course meal served in the tiny dining room, but this is now part of the kitchen and you must now use the old dining room refurbished as ‘Stinson’s Restaurant’ and must pay separately for each course. I just had the beef curry for dinner.

The unit was nice enough, though not spacious, and the outside was suffering from exposure to the weather – flaking paint, peeling wood veneer and rusted locks. As a favour to the hotel I oiled my lock before I left.

Later I took a walk around the town and went up the hill from the hotel to find the start of a 15 km walk trail. I walked along some of it, and was just coming back onto the road when I saw another orchid. It was different from any I had seen before and I haven’t been able to identify it in the reference provided by Kings Park. It had dull (not bright) yellow-and-purple petals and two slender green petals that hung down from the main flower and crossed over in an elegant way. I suppose you could call it the Dietrich orchid after that actress who used to cross her legs in an elegant way.

I made some ‘phone calls. I tried to book the Donnybrook Motel as usual but they were fully booked. Don’t know why. I was most disappointed because this is one of the nicer motels and I was looking forward to a dip in the pool and a nice relaxing time. I had to book the old Donnybrook Hotel, one of the traditional hotels in the centre of town opposite the train station. I expected it to be a rathole and it was. But more of that later.

The usual lazy evening followed. I fixed the TV antenna which was loose, causing loss of picture. Not that there was much to watch.

Reading at Greenbushes: 1351. Day’s ride: 54 km. Aggregate: 344. Km/day: 57. Kph to Greenbushes: 13.1.

DAY 7, Greenbushes - Donnybrook

TUESDAY 22 OCTOBER

The day was cool to mild and sunny with east to south-easterly winds shifting north-easterly. I left Greenbushes at 8:58, rested at Mullalyup, 1367, then made a brief stop at Kirup, 1374. I reached the Donnybrook Hotel at 11:38, 1393. There was only one person in the downstairs area, a man sitting at the bar smoking and looking bored and sleepy. Many lights were on and a racing commentary blared from somewhere. After looking around for someone to check me in I asked him if there were any staff about. He said “that’s me”. I apologised and told him I had a booking. After thinking for some time he said “twenty dollars” and got me the key to Room 1.

Upstairs had been done completely in grey – grey carpet, walls and woodwork. It looked like something out of the movie ‘Pleasantville’. My room hadn’t been made up so I asked the lady if I could leave my bag in it. Then I went out again to get some lunch and make some ‘phone calls, booking the Ocean Drive Motel in Bunbury for the next day.

When I came back the room was ready. It was clean enough and the bed was comfortable but there was no flyscreen, no bedside light or bedside table, no water jug or glass and nowhere to hang clothes. I scouted around and got a glass and a chair from the guest TV room and scored an extra pillow and a hanger from a cupboard which hadn’t been properly locked. Then I had my lunch and dozed for a while. The room directly overlooked the SW highway so it was a bit noisy with traffic and with loud conversations from the footpath below.

The showers and toilets were run-down – one of the showers had a loose head set too low, and both had tiles missing from the walls. I used the other shower, whose nozzle was so high as to be out of each and emitted an uneven jet of water. But there was hot water.

The dining room’s two rickety doors were locked together with a chain and padlock, so I decided not to bother trying to have meals in this place.

I went for a walk up to the bridge, then down to the river bank and along the river as far as the weir, then up to the SW highway and back into the town. I did some shopping for breakfast and checked to see if the Chinese restaurant was still open. It was still there, but shut despite the time being after its announced opening time.

I was hoping to get an evening’s TV so I checked out the guest TV room. No-one had taken control of it and turned the TV to the commercial channel, as so often happens. I turned the TV on – it took some time to warm up, and seemed to have been set to a local UHF repeater for a country commercial network, GWN or WIN. After studying the TV and fiddling around I discovered how to get it back to the VHF range. I discovered what the pliers on the table next to it were for – the TV was an old one where the channels were changed, clunk, clunk, with a knob in the centre of a circular dial. The knob was long gone and the channels had to be changed using the pliers to grasp the worn spindle firmly and force it around. I did this until I got back to the VHF channels and found the ABC, then turned the TV off and hid the pliers deep inside one of the dilapidated armchairs.

I went back to the Chinese restaurant and found its board on the sidewalk and the door open. It was just as it had been back in 1998 – one dim light was on, the paint was old, there were no pictures or decoration of any sort. There were only a few tables. One was strewn with old newspapers. No places were set. The proprietor was the same man I remembered from before. I ordered the sweet and sour chicken I had taken a notion for and sat down to read while it was prepared.

Two couples walked in, dressed as for an evening out. They peered into the interior and one of the women exclaimed “Ooh, it’s a bit dingy!” Upon that they all walked out again, more quickly than they had come in, but not before the proprietor had appeared with my meal. He saw four customers slipping away and almost chased them up the footpath, pleading, “Hello? Yes, please? Can I help you?” But they quickened their pace and said they were just looking around. I wanted to say to them that the food was good, as indeed it turned out to be, fresh and tasty if a bit light on the meat. But they were looking for a pleasant place to eat out and the ambience of that place might have induced a desire for suicide rather than a feeling of having had a good night out.

I went back to the hotel and got organised for an evening’s TV. No-one else was there and my setting of the TV had not been changed, nor the pliers found.

As I ate my meal, a young woman came in with a meal on a paper plate and sat next to the open window eating it quickly. She left after about ten minutes.

During the ‘Bill’ another young woman came in and sat next to the open window, staring out. She didn’t look at the TV or at me for a whole hour, just stared out of the window. Then she left quickly, knocking against my chair as she did so.

I went to bed but had one of those nights (there were three in a row) when I get up every two hours. I woke up at about 1:30 am and left my room to walk down to the toilet – my room was as far away from that as it could be. I expected to find the place dark and quiet, but all the lights were on and just as I turned the corner in the passage a young woman came out of a room, fully dressed. I was only in my boxer shorts so I was a bit embarrassed but she didn’t take any notice of me, just went into another room.

Next time I got up a door was open near the toilet and a man was shouting the way people do when they are drunk and irritated.

In the morning I went into the TV room to return my glass and fix the TV, and disturbed a young man lying on the floor covered with a blanket. I apologised and left.

Later I went in again to bring out the pliers and re-tune the TV to the way it had been when I arrived.

I believe all these people were seasonal workers in town for the fruit-picking.

Reading at Donnybrook: 1393. Day’s ride 42 km. Aggregate: 386. Kpd 55. Kph to Donnybrook: 15.8.

DAY 8, Donnybrook - Bunbury

WEDNESDAY 23 OCTOBER

I left Donnybrook with some relief at 8:57, vowing to book the motel as many days as possible ahead of need the next time. There was a fresh WNW wind, directly against me. I decided to turn off at Boyanup, to make a different way than usual, go along a new road, avoid the heavy traffic and turn the headwind into a side or tail wind for the last run into Bunbury. I needed this to give me heart for the Mandurah challenge. It was quite contrary to my usual quest for short cuts, but the day’s ride would still be very short and five consecutive days of headwinds had sapped my confidence.

I rested at the turn-off to Trigwell Road just south of Boyanup. After a couple of kilometres I reached the fork in the road and took the right to Stratham, crossing the railway line, rather than the left to Capel. The headwind was strong but no more difficult than it would have been had I continued up the main road. The country was pleasant and the road peaceful.

I reached the Bussell Highway and stopped for a rest at Stratham roadhouse at 1421, then continued, finding that the wind was now either helping me a bit or at least not opposing me. I turned left onto Centenary Road at 1432, then left into Washington and into Ocean Drive. I reached the Ocean Drive motel at 1440, 12:06. I checked into Unit 15.

After a rest I had a swim. The sea was very rough and the wind strong and the clouds out to sea looked threatening, but it was an enjoyable and refreshing tumble in the surf. Then I showered and dressed and set off on the bike for shopping and sightseeing. The cold front coming in across Geographe Bay fulfilled its promise as I reached the shop and toilets about a kilometre up Ocean Drive, so I had to shelter there for a while. The rain was intense but brief and the weather cleared completely as I resumed my ride into town.

I went to the huge shopping centre, got drinks and pies for dinner and something for breakfast, then rode around Bunbury, but I was unable to ride up the steep hill past the old hospital and between the two cathedrals. I always used to be able to manage that hill. Things didn’t look promising for the next day.

I got back to the motel and some of my washing was already dry due to the strong wind, but I left the backpack for a while. I tried to book the Mandurah Gates Resort but the boy on the ‘phone was having some unexplained technical problem and told me that someone else would have to ring me back, which they eventually did. I made some other ‘phone calls, then went out to enjoy the evening view over the sea. Some surfers were still out there on their boards and I watched one catch a couple of waves and ride them all the way in. He was the patient one who went further out to catch the occasional big ones.

I heated my pies in the microwave oven and watched a program on Rose Hancock for a while. The lady in the motel office discussed this with me at length when I went to pay the ‘phone bill. I eventually rendered her speechless with my observations on the suggestive nature of Rose’s husbands’ names. First Lang Hancock, then Willie Porteous. Who’s next, I asked, Dick Smith?

I went back and watched the movie ‘Pleasantville’ referred to previously.

Reading at Bunbury, end of day: 1447 km. Day’s ride: 54 km. Aggregate: 440 km. Km/day: 55. Kph to Bunbury: 14.9.

DAY 9, Bunbury - Mandurah

THURSDAY 24 OCTOBER

I left the Ocean Drive motel at 8:04 on a clear morning without much wind. I didn’t rush to start early as I had in 2000, because on this day the wind was light S and was only going to get stronger from that direction, whereas in 2000 the north-westerly was going to get stronger as the day went on, so I needed to get as much distance done as possible before it built up too much.

I found the appropriate turnoff without any trouble this time and proceeded north through the northern suburbs of Bunbury and on through Australind. Some woman driver yelled at me to use the cycle path, which was funny because the cycle path had cut out some way back and there was just the road. I yelled something rude back at her and the car following her honked at me in disapproval.

There is now a continuous built-up area stretching north from Bunbury, enveloping the formerly distinct hamlet of Australind and heading north from there. I identified the old centre of Australind, the service station and shop next to the park.

As usual I took the Cathedral Avenue (oddly named) scenic route, which was flatter and saved a bit of distance, rather than the main continuation of the coast road.

The stretch between Bunbury and Australind was noticeably built up even since 1997. Urbanisation is now continuous. In 1979 when I first did this run, the petrol station and shop at Australind, beside the lake, stuck out and you couldn’t miss them, but now they are hard to pick amongst the continuous development.

I took my first rest at 1468, just before rejoining the main Old Coast Road. The wind was still light and would drop off, as it does, as I headed inland, not becoming a factor again until it strengthened and moved further inland. I took the next rest at 1489, feeling good, no problems. At the Lake Clifton cafe, 1510, I stopped for a toilet break then took the last main rest at 1520. There were only 30 km to go and everything was fine, and the wind was definitely helping me now. I was clearly going to get to Mandurah in under 6 hours and still hoped to break the record of 5 hrs 15 minutes.

I reached the Dawesville Cut and entered the Bouvard Bridge. I rushed over it and down the other side at high speed, though not as fast as I had in 1997. The scenery was attractive but it was not a good place to stop and take a photo. After that my feet were getting sore and I could see that I wouldn’t make it in under 5 hr 15 min but my time would still be good. I turned left onto the road that leads to the old town centre, rolled over the old bridge and stopped, 1550, in front of the fishing tackle shop opposite the ruins of the old Brighton hotel (only the old core remains – I wonder if they will incorporate that in the new development announced on the billboard). I checked my watch; 1:32, 5 hours and 28 minutes from Bunbury. The third-best time ever. I hope to have another go at it another time with a really good tailwind.

I arrived at the Mandurah Gates Resort at 1551, claimed and paid for my unit and began to enjoy the aquatic delights. First, a barefoot walk to the ocean beach at the end of Stewart Street. The sea was delightful, a bit turbid but most pleasant.

I stayed in the sea for a long time, then dawdled back to the resort, jumped straight into the cold pool, then into the spa for a long warm soak.

This time I didn’t bother to do my laundry in the resort’s laundromat. I would be home the next day. I felt most content. The ride had been a great success. There was nothing left but the old familiar run back up the coast to Cottesloe, which I expected to be aided by a tailwind. I was pleased with the day’s ride – I felt that it had been ‘professional’, a nice steady routine and a reasonable time under the circumstances, and I wasn’t too tired.

After a rest I went looking for dinner. The Chinese smorgasbord seems to have moved further down Mandurah Terrace, so I ate there. It was quite popular with a pleasant family atmosphere.

I walked down to the old bridge to watch the fishing, but there was nothing biting and the wind was fresh and cold now in the evening. I tried to have another spa, but it had been closed an hour earlier than the time on the sign, so I watched TV and finally retired to read my book.

I slept quite well in between getting up every two hours.

Reading at Mandurah, end of day: 1551 km. Day’s ride: 104 km. Aggregate: 544 km. Km/day: 60. Speed Bunbury to Mandurah: 19 kph.

DAY 10, Mandurah - Cottesloe

FRIDAY 25 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 could see from the palm trees that quite a fresh morning north-easterly was blowing, but the pattern of the weather led me to assume that a southerly would kick in some time during the morning.

I went for an ocean swim, taking a photo of the sea and the approach to the beach. It was calm and beautiful and most enjoyable. 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 10:05. The southerly was trying to get in as I left the town and was established by the time I got twenty kilometres out. The signage for the old Mandurah Road has changed since 2000 so I wasn’t quite sure that this was the place to turn right, and the traffic was busy so I just kept going up Ennis avenue and going through all those ghastly depressing new suburbs described in previous Ride stories. I took a drink break at 1575, then at 1597. I took the main Rockingham road through Spearwood because the straight run up Cockburn Road via Coogee is no longer available and I am not sure of the new route. Then I kept going all the way home, which I reached at 1617, 13:22. 3 hours 17 minutes from Mandurah. My PB is 2 hours 55 but that was achieved in 1997 with the aid of a roaring southerly. The ‘02 ride ended as I dismounted the bike outside my back gate.

Final reading at end of ride: 1617 km. Km for day: 65. Aggregate: 610. Kpd: 61. Kph to home: 19.8.

Charles A. Pierce 2002

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