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Date: Thu, July 9 1998 I've reached Townsville (at last) and am currently staying on Magnetic Island, a really beautiful environment -- definitely the best I've been in in Queensland so far. I could very easily spend a lot of time here. It's very popular, but not spoilt -- no ugly development, lots of unspoilt beaches and unspoilt tropical bush, with lots of walks to go on. Definitely a place to come back to. The house I'm staying in is a typical north Queensland house, on stilts, with shutters instead of glass on all the windows. Built to withstand cyclones. I'm very, very lucky to be here, and I've been made very comfortable even though my hostess, Marjorie, is very busy right now with local involvements. Marjorie is one of my penfriends, and this was the first time we'd met face to face. I met her through "Click-On" (a very lively discussion group) as I did Joan (in Woy Woy) and Peter in Gosford, both of whom were also very hospitable when I passed through the NSW Central Coast roughly one year ago (hello Joan and Peter). I'd like to tell you lots more about the island, and about my experiences since Bowen, but regrettable time has run out. I decided to make a start on the Great Saga -- the story of my ride from Rockhampton to Mackay, and that follows hereunder. But this really is a beautiful place. The weather has been fantastic too. Even as I type the birds are singing outside, the sky is blue and I'm looking out on dense tropical bush -- Marjorie's "back yard". Come here if you can. Now read on. Rockhampton-Mackay; the Saga This goes way back to May 13. That was the day I was scheduled to depart from Rockhampton, and also the day that the first in series of disasters & mishaps that were to befall me happened. Even before that though, come to think of it, there was an omen. As I was in the early stages of packing & trying hard to be brisk & efficient (never works; all it achieves is to make me more clumsy or more absent minded) I dropped a glass jar on the concrete and it immediately shattered. That jar (a honey jar I think) I had carried along with right from the beginning of the trip, from day one in Tasmania. I used it for mixing up full cream milk powder to make milk for my coffee. Wasn't so disastrous as it turned out; I managed to buy a neat little plastic container, just the right size, from the camping shop which worked just as well and was much lighter. Still, I'd become quite attached to that honey jar, so it was definitely an omen of things to come (with the wisdom of hindsight). More significantly though, just as I was preparing to pull down the tent, the glider of the zip on the door came right off in my hand. The stitching on the end of zip had come undone. That effectively rendered the door ineffective. Bad news. The tent is not much good without the door. At that stage it was 1:30 PM in the afternoon and I was almost packed. I tried hard to keep calm and started making phone calls. I managed to track down a canvas repair place that said they could fix it, but that the man who did the repairs was out & wouldn't be back for 30 minutes. That put paid to any idea of departing that day, so I immediately booked into an overnight van for one night to make things easier. They were really nice in that repair shop and did the job without charging me. So that crisis was over. The next morning things went a lot more smoothely, except that it was very windy, which always complicates things when I'm packing -- things blowing everywhere. It made a big difference being in an overnight van, though. I was even able to do my yoga for once (at least those practices I can manage in the cramped space. And cook in private for a change (the kitchen there had been quite crowded for the previous few days; it has a TV set which I hate because people insist on putting it on, usually loudly, just because it's there. I hate TV! Why waste time watching it on holidays?) The thing about an overnight van though is that they are usually rather fussy about the occupants being out of there by 10 AM, which is always a bit of a strain for me. Usually means I have to finish off my packing on the outside -- at a table somewhere. And it's then that the wind makes a difference. One day I'll try to explain just how it is that I can manage to take so long to pack -- that even though I'm up before dawn (well before dawn, I can never manage to get away before lunch time. No one can ever understand it, especially other cyclists who are usually packed by 9 AM. Can't really understand it myself, except that I've always been like it. Just gets worse as I get older. Actually, all caravan parks have a nominal "check out time" of 10 AM, even for campers. But in all of my travels, through Tasmania, Victoria, New South Wales and Queensland over the 15 months or so I've been on the road, only one park manager bothered to get nasty about it. Everywhere else my eccentricities have been tolerated and absorbed. My latest departure time ever was in Bowen -- I left the park there in the centre of town at 4:30 PM but only had to ride 5 km to Horseshoe Bay; then had to unpack everything I'd just spent all afternoon packing. What a strange life! The manager just chuckled when I handed my key in for the return of my deposit. In fact most of the people I meet (including the park managers) are quite enthusiastic about what I'm doing, and go out of their way to help me. One manager (in Tweed Heads it was, my last overnight stop in New South Wales) actually offerred me a second night free of charge. That was a rare exception admittedly. And at the other end of the spectrum was that man in the small town of Calen, on the way to Proserpine, just north of Seaforth beach (just north of Mackay). He made a really big issue of it and accused me of "taking advantage". He went on and on about it and just interrupted me whenever I tried to interrupt to ask exactly how I was costing him money as he insisted. He just wanted to make a speech I think. He huffed and puffed about charging me an extra day (which frankly I just didn't have the money for anyway -- blood out of stone!) He actually said "We have ways and means!" But eventually he realised that the sooner he shut up and left me alone the sooner I could finish my packing and get out of there. He didn't come near me again after that, and it ended up being 2 PM anyway by the time I got away. But that's jumping way ahead. I wanted to tell you about it though because you'll gather that riding in the late afternoon and putting my tent up in the dark is a constant theme, especially through this saga. So back to May 14. I had decided to make a detour from Rockhampton to the beaches, i.e. around the "loop" from Emu Park to Yepoon before commencing on the long treck (333 km) to Mackay. I had picked out a caravan park for the first night not in Emu Sands itself (which I passed through without stopping) but at Kinka Beach (I kept calling it "Kinky Beach) just a few km north of Emu Park. I picked out that one because it had a kitchen (always a big drawcard for me) but it turned out to be a very nice park anyway, with peacocks roaming freely round the park area and roosting in the trees, though I didn't see them until the next morning. It was the same old story: I got there around 5:30, so by the time I'd unloaded the bike and unpacked the tent it was quite dark. In this case though I was able to camp right next door to the kitchen, and was a light to see by. I cooked myself a packet of two minute noodles around 9 PM, having the kitchen to myself, and was in bed just after 10 PM. I ended up staying there two nights, mainly because there were showers forecast for the next day. Not that I'm a wimp about showers, but I really hate packing the tent when it's wet. As it turned out the the showers were a non event, so I took advantage of extra day by getting some washing done. And I tried to get some photos of the peacocks, but every time I got the camera ready they hid. After I put it away again, they were everywhere and the males were putting on a great display. Next night was just on the outskirts of Yeppoon. Once again I picked it out because of the kitchen. This park was nothing like as picturesque. But comfortable. Except for one thing: they piped commercial radio (quite loud) over the PA system in the ammenities block, the toilets and showers. I really hate that -- it's an outrageous invasion of my private mind-space. I don't EVER listen to commercial radio so I just having it imposed on me. Fortunately though, that was only the 4th caravan park I'd encountered in my entire journey which did such a thing. Terrible. Also, although it had a kitchen (with a stove and a fridge) it was pretty basic in other respects; there was no table anywhere for me to use to do my packing. Made it take even longer than usual; saying something! Ah, logistics, logistics. Every park is slightly different in its layout so the logistics are always different. The bane of my life. This is one of things I've become so really sick of, but am stuck with -- constantly working out logistics in my head as I carry things from A to B etc. etc. as the packing progresses. By far the worst part of the trip. Also, Yeppoon was my last chance to do some shopping before heading north. I knew that there was a dearth of shops ahead of for the next couple of nights. And as it happened it was Sunday. So the main supermarket in Yeppoon was closed. I had to go to the lesser one. They had just about everything I wanted, but were a bit more expensive. However, it was well past 3 PM by the time I got clear of the supermarket with my shopping loaded on the bike. I had a 32 km ride to the highway (just north of Rockhampton) plus a further 4 km to the rest area where I was intending to camp. Then would you believe, I got lost trying to get out of Yeppoon. Typical. I've got absolutely no sense of direction at all. The road signs were not all that clear, and I wanted to be quite certain that I was on the right road, i.e. the one that took me direct to the highway just north of Rockhampton. Just to complicate things I kept getting a different answer every time I asked someone for directions. After riding round in cirles a few times, while trying to consult my map I finally managed to get myself on the right road just as it was coming up to 4 PM. So it was a pretty desperate ride, constantly aware of the approaching sunset. It was 5:30 or so when I reached the highway, and getting darker every minute. But as it turned out there was a caravan park I didn't know about (not on my list) on the highway about 500 metres north of the turnoff. Whew! What a relief! Definitely a port in a storm! My trip meter was showing 39 km since leaving the caravan park just south of Yeppoon. But I soon found out why it wasn't listed. It was pretty grotty and basic and very skimpily maintained. The tent area was in total darkness, no light whatsoever so my little forehead torch really came into its own. I was utterly exhausted by the time I got the tent up and bedding organised. And very hungry. Under the circumstances I had no compunction about doing my cooking in the laundry. They's told me there was a barbecue area (not under cover, and with no lighting) somewhere around. But I was in no mood to go looking for it. Not ideal surrounding for eating, but functional. I've had to resort to that tactic many times so I'm used to it. Anyway there some quite heavy showers during the night, so everything was wet. I got up before dawn as usual (between showers) and cooked my breakfast (i.e. porridge & coffee) in the laundry too. Fortuneately the showers stopped & the sun came out so I was able to decamp from the laundry to the barbecue area (dry by then) and do my packing on the tables there. But it was a longish walk there from my tent site, so the logistics were a bit hideous. However, at least I was left alone to get on with it and I finally managed to get away from there at 3 PM. I reached Yaamba well before dark and took a motel room (with own toilet and shower) for only $25. The room was pretty small, but still a good deal; big enough to do yoga. And what a luxury to have my own toilet and shower for a change. This was my chance, I thought, to make an early start (early for me that is) having no tent or bedding to pack. Then I would stand a chance of making it to Marlborough, the next town with a store and a caravan park, and about 59 km away. The sun was shining, not much wind, so things were looking good. "Mackay here I come" I was thinking. Ah the best laid plans of mice and men! I did indeed get off to a relatively early start, having had some lunch -- 1 PM, quite early for me! But I didn't make it to Marlborough. After about 40 km my rear tyre started loosing pressure and I only just made it to a roadhouse at a very tiny town called Kunwarara (pronounced "Kunawara" -- Queensland towns are never pronounced the way you expect.) I was lucky, they were very nice to me at that roadhouse; I was able to camp there free of charge and they helped me a lot. In fact towards the end of my stay they actually gave me a room to sleep in, with a bed, still free of charge. I was there several days waiting for a replacement tyre to come from Rockhampton. Even then it wasn't the end of it. I managed to blow up the new tyre with the pressure pump. What a twit. And I made matters worse by trying to patch it up myself. But the result was so bumpy that when I tried to make it from there to Marlborough that my packrack came to pieces (it was already stuck together with hose clamps in several places. Oh, what a saga it was. But I'll have to leave it at that for now. I'm running out of time. Before I leave it though, a couple of observations. Ever since I set foot in Queensland people had been "warning" me about the stretch from Rockhampton to Mackay, saying how long and how boring it was. But I don't think it was all that boring at all. In fact if nothing had gone wrong, I would have enjoyed it. There wasn't much traffic, and I found the scenery quite pleasant, mostly rural with hills in the background. I've certainly had more boring rides. And secondly, it was on this particular stretch that a number of other cyclists passed. At Kunwarara and at Marlborough I was able to talk to quite few, some Australian and some from overseas -- had some very interesting conversations and many useful tips. One such had to do with tyre pressure. I confess I hadn't taken much notice of tyre pressure: I just felt them from time to time and said "Oh, that feels hard enough." But it's been explained to me that it's important not only for avoiding punctures, but also for speed. One of the cyclists I was chatting to (after I'd fixed up the burst tyre, the second time) had a guage with him and pumped up my tyres to the correct level. After that I made much better average speeds than I had been before, so it really does make a difference. I will definitely continue this saga because I particularly want to put it on record. It was definitely the most eventful leg of my journey so far, and reaching Mackay was therefor a high point. Since then things have gone much more smoothely, and now I'm within cooey of Cairns (only 300 odd km from here. To be continued. Don. |