Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Dubbo

Once again, the weather has been generally pleasant.  Some days have been rather warm, a couple nights at higher elevation a bit cool, but there's been no significant rain.

I spent a third night in Condobolin, and another cyclist rode in the last evening.  I didn't have much time to talk to him, but Joe lives on the NSW coast, and was riding west towards Hay for a few days, then catching a ride home.

It was a warm ride to Forbes, a pleasant town I stayed in in 2001.  I spent a couple nights there.  Heading east to the small town of Eugowra, it turned a little cooler as I climbed.  There I pitched my tent under a gigantic shed roof at the show grounds, then found a great oboe spot in a shelter in another park, so I decided to spend two nights there, too.



Eugowra Campsite

I asked around about dinner, and learned that there was a Chinese restaurant at the lawn bowling club, which I never would have found on my own.

Breakfast both mornings was at the "Gentle Cow" café, run by a bloke named Mike.



The Gentle Cow





My last morning in Eugowra, I had a chat with a truck driver waiting in the park for his truck to get a new wheel bearing.  It was a double, hauling 50 tons, but I didn't ask of what.  He later passed me, giving me what passes for a friendly honk from a 50 ton truck.

As one travels east, towards the mountains of the Great Dividing Range, the land gradually rises.  My next stop was Molong, at 530 meters.  It's a little bigger town, on a major highway, but at least the caravan park had a free washer.  It was quite cool that night.

It warmed up quickly the next morning for the ride to Yeoval, where I had stayed in 2004.  It doesn't have a caravan park, but the locals in the bowling club all agreed that no one would care if I camped in the park.  Conveniently, the bowling club had a shower. 

In 2004, a local had seen me riding around town and invited me to have breakfast with his family the next morning.  I managed to contact Alf Sunday afternoon, and he invited me to meet him the next morning, so I decided to stay one more day in Yeoval.  Alf and his wife, Sharon, recently started up a museum and coffee shop dedicated to Banjo Patterson, Australia's famous poet, who lived part of his childhood in Yeoval.  Alf and Sharon lead busy lives, in which I was immersed for a day.  I met Alf early Monday morning at the museum, rode along with him on a shopping trip to Wellington, 40 km away, then back to the museum for breakfast.  He showed me around the museum, as well as a new park across the road for which he's largely responsible.  Both Alf and Sharon drive school busses, so that afternoon I rode along with Sharon on her run, and the next morning with Alf on his.  They invited me to have dinner and stay at their house, so I slept in my first bed since Feb. 16 back in Colac.  Back at the museum Tuesday morning after Alf's school bus run, we had another breakfast, and I got ready to leave.  Alf asked me to deliver a letter in Dubbo, but just before I left he got a call to drive a crook (sick) school bus to Dubbo for repairs, so he took the letter back.  (He had offered several times to drive me to Dubbo, of course.)  About a half hour out of Yeoval, Alf and Sharon met me going the other way in Sharon's car.  It seems the bus broke down and Sharon had to pick up Alf.  So, I got the letter back again.  A ways further down the road, I found a bunch of fresh oil on the road, and eventually the bus parked along the road.  Later, a very large tow truck went by going the other way, but I got to Dubbo before it got back with the bus.  Alf and Sharon had also told me about two cyclists just ahead of me.


The Banjo Patterson Museum

A ways past the abandoned bus, I met the two cyclists at a rest area.  Charlotte and Ruben, from Belgium, had left from Melbourne two weeks earlier, also on their way to Brisbane.  Both were towing trailers.  They're on a two year "working holiday", planning to sell their bikes in Brisbane, and continue their travels to the north and on to Asia. I left the rest area before they did, and didn't see them again until I got to Dubbo.  They were both born the year of my first New Zealand trip, 1986.


With Ruben


Dubbo is a big town, about 50,000, on two major highways, but it's the last one I'll see for quite a while.  The caravan park I stayed in last night was a real dump, but there are several others, so maybe tonight will be more pleasant.






Friday, March 20, 2015

Condobolin

I've about come to the end of Riverina.  While there is agriculture along the several rivers flowing through it, in between the rivers it can be pretty bleak.

My first night in Hay, I chose to stay in the free camping area near the river.  Most of it was just bare dirt parking areas for caravans, but there was a grassy picnic area, without any really explicit "No Camping" signs.  There were, however, some big floodlights overlooking it, so I waited until dark before putting up my tent.  Sure enough, just as the last twilight faded, two huge mercury-vapor lights lit the place up like a stadium, so I had to camp in the dirt and thorns.

I spent the next day in Hay.  It was a warm day on the weekend, so the sports ground, my usual oboe spot, was occupied.  However, the courthouse was deserted, and had a great veranda with benches, so I spent much of the day there.  No one bothered me.




Hay Courthouse


Hay Courthouse Veranda


That night I stayed in the caravan park instead of dirt and thorns.  My neighbors, a retired couple with a small tent, were on their way from Adelaide to the Snowy Mountains to do some hiking.

The route to Booligal the next day was pretty bleak, between two rivers, but there was a nice tailwind.  Some of the vegetation looks like the sagebrush of the US Southwest.  Along the way was "One Tree", where I had lunch next to the road, in the sun.


En Route to Booligal


What Tree?

Booligal consists of a pub/hotel and a small sports ground.  The locals sitting outside the pub had seen me coming far up the road, as it's exceedingly flat.  I had a shower by the pub for $2, and when I asked the lady who runs the place if there was a basin in which to wash my clothes, she insisted in putting them in her washer.  I practiced for a while at the sports ground, then had dinner at the pub.  When I was done with dinner, the lady delivered my dry clothes to the table!  I camped at the sports ground, of course.  There was even a full rain water tank there.

The next day, another installment on those tailwinds came due.  It was only 77 km east to Hillston, but it was hot, there was a strong headwind, and the gravel road was in terrible shape, with lots of soft, sandy stretches.  I started with 6 liters of water, which wasn't enough.  It does start to look a little greener towards Hillston, a sign of increasing average rainfall towards the east.

After arriving in Hillston, I pulled three thorns out of my tires, no doubt the result of pushing through the brush along that gravel road.  The tires seemed to be OK.

Hillston is a lush oasis compared to all that dry country, so I decided to spend the next day there.  When I passed through in 2004, I met a retired farm couple, Jenny and Joe Rose.  I tracked them down again, and had a nice visit.  Their farm was near Hillston, and I forget how many thousands of acres, but it was huge, as that's what it takes in this country.  Later, they invited me to a potluck dinner with some of their friends.


Joe and Jenny Rose (center) and friends

Meanwhile, the back tire was NOT OK.  The first puncture of the trip, a thorn I had missed earlier.

The ride to Lake Cargelligo the next day was more pleasant.  There was a tailwind, the road was sealed, and just east of Hillston trees appeared.  My lunch stop was in the shade, for a change!  Many of the trees were introduced pines of some sort.


Trees!

The lake in Lake Cargelligo is artificial, but probably didn't take nearly as much diesel fuel to make as the one in Moulamein.  It was an ephemeral lake, filling only when the Lachlan River flooded, but was modified to stay full most of the time.  It's quite large, though shallow.

I spent the next day in Lake Cargelligo.  The caravan park had a nice shelter, with good shade and a table, so I got everything set up to work on oboe reeds.  Then the sprinkler came on, hosing down everything before I could get it out of the way.  I had to find a place in a nearby park to dry everything out.  It seems the city pumps water from the lake to water various places sequentially, and it was time for the caravan park.  Whoever opened that valve no doubt had no idea it would flood an oboe operation.

That day, I met a cycling couple from the Netherlands, Ellis and Willem.  They had been on the road for nearly two years, and had cycled all through Europe, Asia, and around Western Australia,  some 33,000 km so far.


Ellis and Willem


The ride to Condobolin was long, 102 km, but quite easy. There was a tailwind part of the way, and the 16 km of gravel road wasn't bad.  I found another shady spot in a dry river bed for lunch.

When I was in Condobolin in 2004, a reporter for the local weekly paper interviewed me and published a front-page article and photo.  I had arranged to do another interview for them, so I met Lara, the editor/reporter, when I arrived.  (She was still in high school in 2004.)  She could have written about Ellis and Willem, too, if she'd known they were in town the day before.

I'm spending another night in Condobolin.  My next stop, Forbes, is another 100 km to the east, and there's a strong easterly wind today.  Unfortunately, it's supposed to blow that way tomorrow, too, so it may be a long day.







Friday, March 13, 2015

Riverina


I've crossed the Murray River into New South Wales, and am now in an irrigated area they call Riverina.  It's a very flat area through which several tributaries of the Murray flow, allowing irrigation of rice, grapes, fruit trees, and cotton.

The weather has been sunny and comfortable, with mostly southerly winds, so I've often had tailwinds.  I'm going to pay for that, I know.

From Hopetoun, I rode to another small town to the north, Sea Lake.  It was Friday night, and after dark a few other campers arrived on their holiday weekend travels from Melbourne.  It was hardly crowded, and I got my oboe practice done before they arrived.

From there, I rode to the tiny village of Ultima, where I stayed at the hotel in 2001 during a rainstorm.  The town got its name when it was the last stop on the railway.




Last Stop



Ultima


Ultima Hotel

The weather was fine this time, but there's no "official" camping.   The toilets at the sports ground were locked, and I couldn't find anyone to ask about opening them up.  There was a small park with a working toilet across from the hotel, but I couldn't find anyone to ask about camping there, either.  I was about to stay in the hotel again, but the publican talked me out of a $25 room.  Neither he nor either of the other 2 guys at the bar could think of any reason why I couldn't just camp in the park, so I did.  The only problem was that every dog in Ultima barked all night.


Ultima Campsite

It was an easy ride from Ultima to Swan Hill, a major center.  The caravan park was expensive, and packed for the holiday weekend, but there was room for my little tent.  It turned out to be a lot quieter than Ultima.  They had a nice, clean electric barbecue, so I cooked a steak for dinner.  I've added to my load a plastic spatula for future barbecues.

The Murray River flows past Swan Hill, dividing Victoria from New South Wales.  It's the biggest river in Australia, heavily used for irrigation.  It's a mere trickle compared to the Mississippi, but it's all they have.  Recently, there have been some restrictions on irrigation in hopes of restoring some of the natural habitat of the lower Murray.  It's controversial, of course.


Swan Hill Oboe Spot by the Murray River

The morning I left Swan Hill, I met 3 Australian cyclists at a cafe.  They were on a supported tour, roughly following the Murray River, so we had a nice chat.  They were somewhat less heavily laden than I.

From Swan Hill, I crossed the border and rode to the small town of Moulamein.  I started to see irrigation canals and some irrigated crops about 20 km before Moulamein.  The caravan park there had new owners, a friendly couple who had just moved up from the Melbourne area.  Both are artists, hoping to generate some income from the caravan park while they practice their art.  Sandy works with ceramics, among other things, while Joe is a wood carver.  They were pretty busy fixing up the caravan park, so not much of their art was on display yet.   It was a nice spot, so I spent two nights there.  Right across from the caravan park was a nice shelter by a small lake, where I did some reed work.  The lake itself is entirely artificial:  Excavated, with a berm and island, and water is pumped uphill from the river.  It's basically made of petroleum.  I didn't try to walk around it, but it looked less than a kilometer across.  One very expensive lake.

It was too far to ride from Moulamein to Hay in one day, so I took a slight detour to Maude, which consists of a little shop, a pub/hotel/caravan park and a couple houses.  My grassy campsite was only $5.  It's the first place I've encountered the traveling work crews.  One of them was cutting firewood, but I don't know about the rest. Most of them seemed to be smokers, which at $20 a pack must consume much of their income.

The dogs were fairly quiet in Maude.


Maude Pub






Maude Campsite

I left fairly early this morning for Hay, another major center, to be sure I got here before the shops closed.  For the first time in a couple weeks, I had a serious headwind, so the 52 km took nearly 4 hours.  Most of the route was pretty bleak, very flat and dry.  There are irrigation canals, but many are dry now.  Just a few fields were green, no doubt due to limited water.  Near Hay, there are some orchards and grapes, and I thought I saw a cornfield in the distance.

Hay seems a nice town, and there's free camping by the river, so I'll probably stay here tomorrow, and try to get some new reeds working.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Back in Hopetoun

I know it's been a while since the last update, but internet access has been scarce.  I'm back in Hopetoun, where I was a month ago, now on my way to New South Wales.  Weather has generally been excellent, with a few warm spells, but very little rain.  Southerly winds seem to dominate, making it relatively easy to ride north.  I've been taking my time, taking advantage of the closely-spaced towns here, as I know they will soon get a lot further apart.

From Hamilton, I rode to the tiny village of Cavendish, where I found an excellent dinner at the Bunyip Hotel.  The place looked just like a scene out of "Crocodile Dundee".




Cavendish
Pub in Cavendish


Cavendish Pub Dinner


The Bunyip

A Bunyip, by the way, is Australia's version of Bigfoot or Sasquatch, a mythical creature.

The next stop, in Balmoral, was forgettable, but after that I came to the village of Harrow, which I first discovered in 2001.  I stayed there for two days, and got to know a few of the locals.  The bartender at the pub, Christy, immediately took my photo for the community newsletter.  There's also a café and store.  I camped by the cricket grounds, where there was also a great shelter for oboe practice.  They were watering the grass in the cricket field, so periodically a guy from across the road, accompanied by 4 miniature dachshunds and one other small dog, came over to tend to the pump and sprinkler.  (He turned the pump off at night, so we campers didn't have to listen to it.)  I got to know him a little, and his wife came over to chat at one point, too.


Walking along the river one evening, I came upon an echidna, aka Spiny Anteater, which somewhat resembles a porcupine.  I'm told that tangling with one is equally painful.  Their quills supposedly can even ruin car tires.



Harrow Campsite


Harrow Store


Harrow Cafe


Harrow Hotel


I found some computers at the "Harrow Bush Nursing Centre", which also apparently serves as a community center.  It was clear that no one had ever used the computers to connect to the internet, so it took a while to get one going.  Fortunately, there didn't seem to be anyone in need of any actual health care.


Harrow



Harrow has a museum celebrating the Aboriginal cricket team, which in 1868 went on a tour of England.  It seems many of the area's Aboriginal station hands had talent at cricket, so one of the Englishmen organized a team.  Considering what the English were doing to other Aboriginal Australians at the time, there's a bit of irony here.  The short film in the museum ends with a scene from their last match in London, while the narrator says, "How long would it be before another Black played for England?"

Leaving Harrow for what almost certainly is the last time for me, I rode on to Edenhope.  Along the way, the Harrow sprinkler tender's wife, driving the other way, slowed down and waved. 

Edenhope used to be a sort of a holiday spot, the major attraction being Lake Wallace.  Since at least 2001, however, the lake has been mostly dry.


Lake Wallace in Edenhope
What's missing here?


When I went to the library in Edenhope to use their WiFi, the librarian immediately asked me if I was Scott.  It turns out she lives in Harrow, knows Christy the bartender, and edits the newsletter for which Christy took the photos.

At the caravan park in Edenhope, I met a young couple from Argentina, Juan and Nadi, who were traveling around Australia in an old campervan they had just bought.

From Edenhope, I rode west across the border into South Australia, to Naracoorte.  Juan and Nadi turned up there, too.  As I was setting up my tent, another cyclist rode up.  Mathias was from Germany, and claimed that his English was worse than my German, so we spent part of the evening and next morning trying to converse in German.  He grew up in East Germany before the wall came down, so he learned Russian in school, rather than English.  I didn't think his English was that bad, but he seemed relieved to find someone who spoke even the most remote semblance of his native language.  He was on a 5 month trip, starting in Adelaide and finishing in northern Queensland, so we may meet again.  I could sure use some more practice speaking German!


Border Crossing


With Mathias in Naracoorte


My next stop, still in South Australia, was Frances, just a bit north.  It turned out that there was a big folk music festival happening that weekend, and some folks were already arriving Thursday evening.  I had dinner with the fellow who happened to camp next to me, who was one of the musicians.  He lives on the family farm not far away, running some sort of music production studio while he keeps an eye on his elderly parents.  In the campground that evening, there were various groups playing and singing quietly long after dark.

I didn't feel like dealing with the crowds due to arrive in Frances, so I crossed the border back into Victoria the next day.  I stayed in Goroke, a town I discovered in 2005.  At that time, there was no caravan park, so they let me stay in the building at the sports ground.  There's a nice caravan park now, so I stayed two nights.  I arrived during a warm spell, getting up to 38 C (100 F).  There was a swim meet going on at the pool the day I arrived, but the next day the pool was nearly deserted, so I went for a swim.  A couple hours later, while I was conveniently at the pub having dinner, a storm came through with high winds, thunder, lightning, and a little rain.  I hadn't secured my tent as well as I should have, but it survived with only a slightly bent pole. 


Goroke Tennis Courts


Goroke Main Street


Goroke Football Clubhouse (Where I stayed in 2005)




Goroke Hotel


There was no café in Goroke, and I was getting tired of granola for breakfast, so I tried making scrambled eggs on my alcohol stove.  It was slow and tedious, but they were edible. The worst part was cleaning the pan.

Nhill was my next stop north, another forgettable town, right on a major highway.  Then I rode to Jeparit, where I'd been about a month before.  The ride from Nhill was very pleasant, with the lightest traffic I've seen so far.  Some people in Jeparit recognized me.


Lunch Stop on the way to Nhill


Native Bush on the way to Nhill

I rode on to Rainbow the next day.  There I met a local retiree at dinner, and we had a nice conversation.  He'd just moved to Rainbow and was fixing up a house he'd just bought.  I think this is fairly common, as retirees can buy houses quite cheaply in these little towns.  It may also explain why most of them have a pharmacy and small hospital.

So here I am back in Hopetoun, my northernmost point so far.  Their tiny lake does have water in it, so I camped in the grass near the shore.  Last time, I stayed in the caravan park nearby, but I later discovered that there was camping by the lake.  I'm not entirely sure the grassy spot where I put my tent was strictly legal, but no one seemed to mind last night, and I'm going to stay there again tonight.


Moonrise at Hopetoun Campsite

























This weekend is a big holiday, Victoria's Labor Day falling on 
Monday, just like ours on the first Monday of September.  I'll probably get to the larger town of Swan Hill on Sunday, and stay there until the shops open up again Tuesday morning.  That will probably be my last stop before crossing into New South Wales.