The Finishing Line

Fittingly, I crossed the finishing line on a searing 40 degree day.
I woke in the morning a little later then hoped, and under a blue sky I jumped on my bike, accompanied by my friend Dave, who had agreed to ride the last day with me, sharing in the celebrations.
We lathered on the sunscreen and zinc, and pushed out into the scorching air. Dave shot out in front of me and I struggled to keep up. The traffic was not too heavy, and we managed to weave our way through the back-roads to our resting spot - you guessed it - somewhere to have a quiet beer. Luckily Dave had worked at this fancy hotel before, because our shabby appearance would have otherwise spelled refusal.
The ride home was only a short 30km's, and before I knew it we were arriving in my home town of Sunbury.
By the time we were pulling into my street, Dave was beginning to fall behind and seemed to be struggling in the hot air.
My arrival was during the middle of a working day, so understandably there was nobody home when we rolled up the driveway. Dave and I took some photos and chatted for a while before a few more of my friends turned up for celebration drinks. My parents arrived home from work soon after and suddenly the air was thick with the smell of a barbeque and the sound of chatter.

And that was it. From the 12th of February to the 29th of November 2012 I cycled 21,251km's around the vast paddock of Australia. I spent 1,280 hours in the saddle, had 1 sore bum and grew 1 gorgeous beard.
The feeling of reward is strong, and the times of hardship not forgotten. The people I met, the landscapes I saw and the experiences I had made this cycling journey my trip of a lifetime. Something to remember and something to be proud of. I would like to thank my family and friends for their support along the way, but in particular I would like to thank my Dad - Peter - who spent countless hours helping me out whenever I had an issue. He always listened to my problems, calmed my worries and helped me through the desperate times. I couldn't have achieved success without you Dad.

Thanks to those who read this blog, I hope you enjoyed it and are perhaps inspired enough to take some small trips out on your push bikes.

Until my next adventure, Cheers
Tom Mackie

                                                       Becoming an all too familiar sight!

                                                                   Dave's war paint

                                                       Dave all tuckered out

                                                                       Home

                                                                         Victory!

         
                                                                    The End

The Home Stretch

There I was, standing in front of the towering 'Welcome to Victoria' sign. I took some time to soak up the pleasure of this monumental moment. Victoria at long last. I knew where I was in the world again. I knew the plants, the animals, the towns and the people. The enormity of Australia seemed to be placed into perspective for me at last.
When I sat back on the bike seat I thought about where I had been and what was waiting for me at home. It all felt surreal and exciting. As I plodded along over the next few days I couldn't help myself from ticking boxes off in my head: 'this is the last time I will...' eg, change a tube (hopefully), drink from a river, buy a gas bottle, erect my tent etc. It was all drawing to an end very quickly. In fact, I spent a total of 6 days riding from the Victorian border to Melbourne. I was powering along like never before.
After camping near the border on my first day in Vic, I peddled a few km's past Orbost to find a great camp spot in the bush. The scenery on these first two days through East Gippsland was fantastic. It was Spring and the wildflowers were in full bloom, bringing with them chirping birds of every colour and buzzing clouds of insects. I saw countless goanna's (Lace Monitors), prickly echidna's, stunning King Parrots and stocky wombats. It was a fauna and flora display under the clear blue skies.
As I followed the coast line west I found myself camping at the waters edge in the beautiful little town of Port Albert. While caravans and camper vans were welcome to stay in this small free area, camping was prohibited, so I organised for the vehicles to be parked around my tent - not visible from the roads. The friendly travelers were only too happy to help out. That evening I was attacked by sand flies for the first time on the entire trip! Bummer! There was however, a gorgeous sunset, and I after jumping off the jetty for a wash I was ready to sit back and enjoy the serenity.
After talking some back roads past Foster, I sprung back onto the map at Inverloch and continued riding to just outside of the tiny town (if you could call it that) of Kilcunda. There I found a priceless camp spot which included some short green grass for my tent overlooking a deserted crashing beach. It was perfect. I took a swim and watched the sunset over the water. The excitement of being so close to home was overwhelming, yet I found peace in sitting on the beach by myself after all this time.
From my beach paradise I rode quite accidentally all the way into Melbourne city. I was planning to find a camp spot early but nothing jumped out at me so I just kept peddling. The city came into view just on sun-set as I came hurdling down Beach Road. With a slight tail wind I cruised into familiar territory as I made my way to my sisters house. Michaela and Stacey live in a suburb close by, so I made my way to see them.
When I arrived we were all so excited to see each other, but cuddles were not exchanged until I had taken a lengthy shower. My body and clothing were emitting a stench, my beard was growing horribly and my clothing was torn and black with dirt.
I spent two nights at Michaela and Stacey's house, rejuvenating before my last push home - only some 30km's. My sisters place is around the corner of my good friend Dave's workplace, which just so happened to be an Irish pub. So we visited the pub together to catch up and compare beards (as Dave was holding off shaving until I arrived). There was a party on at the pub and it felt so strange to be flooded with friends and family so suddenly.
My 21,000km cycling adventure would be over in less then 24 hours.         

                                                                             Port Albert

                                                                         Port Albert

                                                                   Dave was the hands-down winner

                                                                   Having a great time

A Leap Back In Time - Day 2

Day 2,  13-02-2012
You Yangs - Torquay

Successful days riding.
We felt both motivated and relieved that things were coming together - happy and riding well.
On the way out of the You Yangs Dave refused to keep riding until he had eaten some food, so we sat on the side of the quiet road and ate some sunshine mix (fruit and nut mix), and paper-thin wraps. The avocado we bought was rock hard - so we threw it.
Breakfast in Geelong was nice. I had a yogurt with muesli (Dave teased me about it) and Dave had some pancakes with cinnamon cream which he hated.
We then motored up some hills into Torquay with out a problem, except I had lost my red flashing rear light for my trailer which I had waited for on order for more than 2 months. Bummer.
After a royal-rogering from a friend of ours on accommodation, we paid $15 each to stay at the caravan park. We set out tents up only to decide soon after that we could just break into our friends annex and caravan anyway. He had great comfy beds for us to lay our aching body's on. After getting comfortable, a bottle of vodka mysteriously vanished within an hour or so. Our behavior also took a mysterious swing and we were chatting and having a great time before we knew it.
We ordered fish and chips for dinner from the Scottish girl behind the counter who secretly fancied us.
Next we were off to the pub for a few pints. Literally two. Dave was on his mobile phone for 94% of the time. The bar girl was pretending not to listen to our ramblings, but she was... And she was loving it.

A Leap Back In Time - Day One

I would like to dedicate the next two blogs to turn back the clock and copy the diary entries that Dave and I wrote together after a few drinks.

Day One:
Sunbury to the You Yangs - 77.3km's

Had a very nice send off from my family and Tom Pickering. My sisters made a great goodbye banner for me to ride through. It was a special moment.
Felt strange to be leaving for such a large trip right from the front door. New address: #1 Highway, Australia.
No worries getting from Sunbury to Bacchus Marsh, but we were hungry so stopped to smash down some pricey Jolly Millers. Dave's quads were screaming as we entered Bacchus, due to lack of nourishment.
Dave's iphone slipped from his pocket, and as he went to grab it before a car ran over it, his bicycle launched itself backwards. Scrambling for his phone he found himself in the middle of the road with his bicycle upside down.
We stopped in at the local 'Flannigans' for a few schooners. We carried all of our bags in with us (quite a lot of gear!). There was a middle aged man with his daughter who was just overly loud in conversation - it was border-line yelling. He was the loudest stranger that Dave and I had ever met.
Just outside of Bacchus we encountered a small, low, moving brown cloud. We decided to inspect the phenomenon more closely after a small debate. I was keen to take a photo. As we pushed through the thin scrub we soon realized that it was a swarm of small insects. After some rapid-fire picture taking, a glance at the display screen revealed that we had been taking photos of nothing.
Walking up the hill out of Bacchus Marsh (yes, not riding), and suddenly we were slapped in the face by a blistering headwind.
Both fighting some serious demons, we had to overcome the worst pain we had both experienced. But hours later we arrived at around 6:00pm in the You Yangs, completely unimpressed. Camping was prohibited in the state park but we decided to ignore this small detail.
We hauled our heavy bikes over the fence (only to find a gate meters down the road). Dave snapped a branch off a tree, and made a kick-arse Big W broom to clear the area of ants and debris. This made for a crisp, clear campsite for a crappy nights sleep.
Dave had a terrible sleep due to a very sore bum, back, quads and neck, which left him with about 3 and a half hours sleep. I on the other hand, had no less then 7 hours sleep, broken only by the occasional body cramp. Dave's sleep was haunted by the incessant 'koo' of a local bastard bird.
We had both had a horrific, horrible first day on the bikes.

The Visitor. The Hills. The Race.

And so the race continued. A race to beat the rain. A race to return home before December. A race to push my limits.
I slipped and slithered my way down flooded streets south of Sydney in the chilling rain. A brief feeling of warmth flooded my heart to find three drowned cyclists coming my way. We stopped for a chat and I felt relieved to find that I was not the only person taking the rain with such a heavy heart. These boys were just as cold, and just as miserable as I was. What was more, this chance encounter was not our first meeting! We had crossed paths before many months back in the Great Sandy Desert (when things were much warmer)! It was a fantastic feeling to be seeing each other on the other side of this great continent. We had all come a long way, and had very different experiences since, which we were soon taking the time to share. So there we were, an American, an Englishmen, a German and an Aussie (myself), laughing and chatting in the pouring rain - it was a welcome break for all four of us, and we parted with smiles on our faces.
A few more rainy days passed by, and my spirit lifted gradually as I adjusted to the conditions, never riding less than 100km's / day. Campsites were found within the dark depths of the soggy forest floor. Even so I spotted countless echidna's, and few snakes, and some birds in which I had never seen before. This flush of wildlife reminded me of better days, and enthused me to push on to drier lands.
One dark, late afternoon, just North of the township of Batemans Bay (NSW), I was thrilled to see a small silver Toyota Echo driving towards me - lights flashing, horn beeping with a hand waving out of the window. This was the arrival of my good friend James. Here to cheer me up with a cold beer and some much needed catching up. We pulled over onto a dirt road that wound its way into a forest to lay out a few swags, crack a few beers, play some music and stay up chatting late into the night. It was ace.
In the morning we were both a little worse for wear, but James insisted I ride to a camp spot just South of Batemans Bay, perhaps for his amusement! There we were able to swim in the ocean, shower at the lifesaving club, cook some dinner and retire for another day. It had been a short day on the bike - some 30km's - and I was treating it as my last rest day for the trip. There wasn't long to go. I would like to take this opportunity to thank James for taking the time out of his busy life to drive all the way into NSW's to spend a few days with me, before turning around to drive all the way back. I had a fantastic time with him and I thoroughly appreciate his efforts.
Over the next few days I sped in silence to the Victorian border. Taking the coastal roads through Bermagui, Tathra, Merimbula, and Eden were challenging with some incredibly hilly terrain that slowed me down and fatigued my legs. This meant that to achieve my 100km/day target, I had to spend long hours in the saddle each day. These small fishing towns seemed to elude the hustle and bustle of the East Coast, and I enjoyed visiting the jetties or talking to the friendly locals. But before I knew it, I was standing in front of the towering "Welcome To Victoria" sign, with a growing feeling of excitement in my body. This really was the home run, and I was prepared to endure whatever challenges it had in store...

                                                           My good friend James

                                                                     East Coast Scenery

                                                               Campsite visitor

                                                            Struggling up those endless hills

NSW - Sydney

It is not without guilt that I admit that New South Whales passed by in somewhat of a blur. The days were long, the km's were many and I raced ahead desperately trying to avoid the rain. In the few days of consistent sunshine my belongings were beginning to spring back to life. My internet dongle dried out linking me once more to the outside world, my odometer once more smiled back up at me with the help of a shiny new set of batteries, and I was snapping away happily after cleaning the circuit-board of my camera. I had missed some priceless photos along the way, but there was still two states ahead of me, and I was happy to have her back.
I continued my ploy to free camp each night and found some great sites tucked away in the forests. I also utilized some of the designated rest areas for camping, but found that pesky Jehovah Witness folk would prowl around these sites pushing reading material down my throat and wasting my time.
As I rode down the coast I was frequently joined by elderly men on their morning ride. We would begin to chat whilst riding, and they would often extend their trips if we were enjoying each others company. I was amazed by the strength of some of these men, and they relished the opportunity to test my own strength by pushing me hard up hills. A glint in their eye became all too familiar before we would approach a hill and the race would begin. I enjoyed these little games.
To my surprise the country became intensively hilly north of Sydney. I followed the 'old' pacific highway through winding, twisting hills beneath a bird filled tree canopy. The road held almost zero traffic besides the occasional motorbike screaming past.
I was in a hurry to reach the northern suburb of Curl Curl in order to catch up with a good friend Tara that night. I underestimated both the distance and the hills and found myself crippled by a 180km ride in searing heat.
When I finally arrived in the beautiful coastal town of Curl Curl I was in a state of desperate exhaustion. I tried to pull myself together when meeting Tara's family, but my words were jumbled and my handshake was weak. I didn't have the heart to tell them that this day had been one of my hardest to date, after all, how could I be tired now after cycling many thousands of km's? However their house was located on a hill looking out over the ocean, and I soon forgot my worries over a beer, a bbq, and some great conversation in the warm evening air. Tara took me out to a pub where we met some of her friends for a drink and some socializing. I'm quite sure they took me for a mentally disabled patient as I couldn't string more then a few words together. It seemed a veil of fatigue was constricting my brain.
I was offered a comfortable bed to sleep in and a bowl of cereal for breakfast - the ideal start to a tough day of riding through Australia's busiest city.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank Tara and her family for their hospitality and friendship during my time in Curl Curl. Their relaxed, positive nature helped me along and for this I am thankful.
Although the roads into Sydney were pumping with early morning traffic, I quite enjoyed my ride through inner city Sydney. It was with pleasure that I crossed the famous Sydney Harbor Bridge and I journeyed up through the busy CBD. Sadly the weather had once more turned sour and I spent the day sweating profusely under my sticky rain jacket. It was a better alternative than freezing in the cold rain.
Suddenly I was lost. Very lost. By law I couldn't ride along the freeways, and I didn't have a map of the Sydney cycle ways. This was a costly mistake. So I plotted a route that zig-zaged across the map in a most unfortunate westerly direction. I would have to head west until I was clear of suburbia, and then resume a south-easterly until I was back on the coast. Bummer. For this reason I spent a most miserable night camped under the drizzling sky in a playground park in the middle of a very rough suburb. Goodnight Sydney, you may have dampened my tent, but my spirit remains resilient!

                                                                          Happy in the Drizzle

                                                                  Sydney Harbor Bridge

                                                                     Eastern Rosella

Farewell To QLD

After the intensive ride to Brisbane, I was as ready as ever to get off the bike, and on the beer. I had contacted Kel, my friend that I met in Arno Bay, Port Kenny and Esperance. Kel was minding a beautiful luxury house for his brother in Redcliffe, just north of Brisbane. Kel invited me to come and stay at this house for a night or two. It was a strange feeling to see Kel on the other side of Australia and we were both very happy to see each other. The weather was superb so we made the most of it by swinging past the pub for a few beers in the sun.

The house we stayed at was beautiful and well stocked with delicious food and drink. We explored the pantries like excited little boys finding sweets, seafood and expensive steaks to relieve our (my) insatiable hunger. There was also a fully stocked bar to be utilized. 

The next day I unloaded my bike and Kel brought out his racer for a ride. Kel knew the cycle paths very well and I thoroughly enjoyed following him around the coastal cycle routes under the blazing sun. We rode for some time and I had the feeling that Kel was testing my fitness from time to time. 

We spent the second night sitting up chatting into the late hours of the night. Unfortunately I didn't make it to bed until 2am, which made it rather difficult to rise for my early 4am start to attempt the ride through Brisbane city. But none-the-less I found myself riding bleary-eyed through the dark, early hours of the morning to beat the building traffic. 

Riding through Brisbane was slow and laborious, taking far longer then expected to cross. I enjoyed the beautiful view crossing the Story Bridge chased by angry motorists rushing to start their work days. 

From here it was a very long, sleepy ride all the way (more then 150km's) to the Gold Coast. The ride encompassed a difficult climb up Tambourine Mountain, offering stunning views over the Gold Coast from the top. 

When I finally arrived on the Gold Coast just after dark, my eyes were red, my legs were sore and my body odor was radiating after long hours of climbing. Thankfully I was to live in luxury for another night! Kate, a close family friend living in a high-rise building had invited me to stay, and had dinner waiting upon my arrival. So after a cold shower and a tasty Thai meal, I relished the opportunity to relax with Kate for a chat and a drink, before well and truly hitting the hay.
This was my last full day riding in Queensland, and I was excited to be entering the next leg of my journey. What did New South Whales have in store for me?

                                                                                  Turtle Head

                                                                               Green Tree Frog

                                                                           A wet weather camp

                                                                            Mother of all monsters: Echidna

                                                                                  Dirt Track Riding

A Rainy Start

It took me two weeks and two days to reach Brisbane from Cairns - a journey covering two thousand km's.
Unfortunately I uncovered a strong negative correlation between increased distance per day, and meeting less people along the way - resulting in far less adventures. Sleeping in the bush every night also stunted my social activities.
None the less I was flying along in order to arrive home within budget. My biggest issue was water falling from the east coast sky. Day in day out I could expect at least some small showers, if not a full day of cold, miserable, soaked to the bone riding. I looked frantically for shelters to pitch my tent under - a process that inevitably slowed me down significantly. My skin would be wrinkly from hours in the rain, my feet numb from waterlogged shoes, and inevitably some water would sneak its way into my bags to wet my prized possessions. My camera stopped working, my internet dongle went for a swim and even my precious odometer threw the towel in. Looking into the blank screen of my odometer felt like looking into the empty eyes of deceased friend. I didn't realize just how often I look at that small screen, relying on it for information of my daily efforts. How far had I ridden? How fast was I traveling? What was my average speed?
As all this rain plummeted downwards, so did my spirits. I tried not to let it bug me but eventually it drove me wild with frustration.
On one particular day when the rain seemed to climax and everything I owned (including my tent and sleeping gear) was soaking wet, I made the decision to make an exception to my rule, and check into a motel room. I needed a heater to dry my belongings and dry out my soaking morale. So I stopped in the tiny town of Marlborough and coughed up the $50 for a single room. Luckily the lady working there took sympathy of my blue lips and sad frown and bumped my booking up to a double room with an en suite.
The room was a dingy small building with a tin roof that echoed loudly under the thundering rain. I liked the sound. It smelt musty, the television didn't work and the windows whistled in the wind. However, I had a roof over my head, a small heater and a comfy bed. I got to work drying out my gear carefully and charged my computer in order to watch a film to whiz me away to another world. The net result was positive. I left in the morning refreshed, dry, happy and determined. To add to this, the downpour from the night seemed to leave nothing for the morning - the sun was even shining!    

         

The East Coast Cruize

My mind was set. I knew what I wanted to do and how I was going to do it. When I arrived back at Cairns it was time to make my move. I felt cool, calm and collected with a strong dash of determination. Funds were dangerously low, the rainy season was fast approaching and my bum was soft again from days off the bike. Things were going to be tough, but I was ready to grit my teeth and push on down busy highways and hilly terrain.
There was a strong necessity for sacrifice, and this materialized in the form of bush camping Every. Night. From. Now. On. This may sound wimpy, but camping out in the sticks on Australia's busiest coast was going to take some dedication and discipline. It meant that showering was out the window. As was electricity for charging my computer, camera etc. It also meant that I would never know where I was headed for the night. Riding through open farm crops hoping wildly that trees would soon take over to provide some shelter to lay my weary head. If the trees didn't appear on the horizon, where would I sleep? If it got too late and I found myself riding through busy suburbia, how would I find a suitable place to camp in the black of the night?
Well, after a great deal of anxiety about sleeping under the stars from now on, my first night was spent inside a house in a nice warm bed. Hardcore! After a long days cycling I pitched my tent on the side of the road surrounded by banana plantations. The sun had gone down and I was busying myself cooking rice with tuna. Quite suddenly a quad motorbike came roaring past not far from my tent. The two passengers doubled back to see what I was up to. When they slid off the seat, I noticed very quickly that they were extremely intoxicated. Both male and female were holding cans of rum, swaying on the spot slurring their speech a great deal. I didn't catch either name, but this couple were the banana farm owners surrounding me. I was invited to come to their house to have a hot meal, a shower and a bed. I felt a little apprehensive about staying with two drunk people that lived in a matrix of tall banana plants. To make matters more uncomfortable, they made regular 'jokes' about the film Wolf Creek, which sent shivers down my spine. However, I was stinky and hungry and keen for another adventure. So I followed the motorbike through the darkness around endless winding dirt roads - quite like a maze. How would I find my way back out in the morning? Oh well, I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.
The night turned out to be far less remarkable then I had hoped. When we arrived I was chased by a vicious pitbull 'fluffy'. It was on a long chain but for that split second when I didn't know how long the chain was, I just froze on the spot and panicked. There were wild pigs chained to a heavy machine in the garden, which were being fattened up for tucker. They were not happy to see me. I was treated to a horrible bowl of half cooked sausage stew, and promptly jumped in the shower. When I came back out the pair of these drunken characters were fast asleep (past out) on the couch. Fantastic. So I snooped around the house in order to find the spare bedroom, lay my head on a rock hard mattress, and drifted away. What a start to my East Coast adventure.          

                                                                         Well... Dad???

                                                                   Yellow-breasted Sunbird

                                                                           Evil eyes

Sydney - Take One

A holiday from a holiday, sounds too good to be true! I had received a call from my Dad when I was arriving in Chillagoe - "You had better be in Cairns by the 16th of October to catch a flight into Sydney". It was a statement not a question, but obviously I would not protest! My relatives from Germany were arriving in Sydney for a short three days and the rest of my relatives (living in Aus) were flying in to meet them. It would have been a disappointment to miss a rare family reunion and my amazing father had made sure that I would be included. What is more, he didn't tell anybody that I would be joining them, so I was somewhat of a surprise - particularly for my immediate family.

So very early on a warm starry morning I stowed my bike in the shed of a friendly caravan park and with a backpack on my back, made my way on foot towards the airport. I walked through the darkness for hours, but I had allowed plenty of time to arrive and catch my flight without rushing. Every process ran like clock-work, and I was soon walking through the busy streets of Sydney. I was relieved to find that the weather was warm and sunny, and it was strange to feel the dry air on my skin after so long.
According to dad's updates, my relatives were dining at a Bavarian restaurant. So showered but perhaps a little scruffy, I made my way through the hustle and bustle. I was very excited to surprise everybody, and had played the potential scene in my mind time and time again.
When I walked in my sister Michaela was the first to see me. She let out a loud scream which was soon echoed by my other sister Stacey. I was showered with cuddles and kisses and it was just fantastic to see my stunned mother, and shake hands with the man who made it all happen. My Oma and Opa were very shocked to see me, and I was the happiest boy in the world to see them. My aunt and uncle were there also and I was thrilled to see them, having kept in close contact throughout the trip thus far.

When my German relatives arrived the party was complete, and we spent the next few days eating delicious food, walking the streets of Sydney and enjoying the buzzing atmosphere created by all the wonderful people.
The last day was spent with my immediate family, and it meant the world to me mucking around with everybody walking, talking eating and laughing. I even had the chance to nick off with dad to the pub for a few quiet beers. It was going to be hard to say goodbye to everybody once more to continue my cycling trip. But, all good things must come to an end, and before I knew it I was cuddling mum goodbye and flying back north to tackle the east coast.
I would like to take the time here to say an incredibly big thank you to my Dad - the altruistic man who inspires with generosity and cheerfulness. Dad, you're a great man, thanks for everything.

The east coast was going to be busy and expensive, and my plan was to push those peddles harder then ever in an effort to arrive in one piece with a dollar still in my pocket. Cyclist - start your engine!

                                                                             The full family shot

                                                               Enjoying a beer with my beautiful sisters

                                                                                  What a view!

                                                                             Family shot

Cape Tribulation - Cairns

As I rode out of Cape Trib, I was finally faced with the rain I had been expecting. It came driving down in thick sheets and I had to cover my mouth and nose (as explained earlier) in an attempt to breath. However, the rain was relatively short lived and I emerged soon on the other side of the gloomy clouds. The hills persisted for a short while (just for the morning) finally giving way to beautiful agricultural land. The landscape was incredibly green and cane sugar was growing rampant. Green paddocks with grazing cattle were dotted here and there and it was great to see white herons following the cows around like close buddies.
When I arrived in Port Douglas I checked into the local caravan park/backpackers 'Dougies'. Dougies had been recommended to me on many occasions.
When I arrived on a Friday afternoon I set up my tent where I was told to... right in the middle of the main path. Apparently they were full and so stuck me in any spot that I would fit. I didn't feel overly comfortable with the situation. This was the first time (in what felt like a very long time) that I was surrounded by masses of people again. I was so used to setting up camp beside a river with only a croc or two for company. Suddenly I was in party central being fussed over by flocks of bored backpackers. After all, that night was 'dress as something beginning with 's' night', and I didn't have an outfit! But as they fussed about my attire for the evening, all I could think about was the safety of my tent and belongings.
So I joined in the fun and games for a few hours (and a cask of goon) and when nobody was looking I crept back into my tent without a word.
That night I took ALL of my belongings with me into my tent which was quite a squeeze (bike wheels, cooking gear, clothes, camera etc.) and endured drunk people shaking my tent begging me to come back and party. I was the 'Aussie bearded cyclist guy'. I just wanted to leave.
The music and festivities continued into the early hours of the morning leaving me feeling spritely for a long day ahead (not!!!)
The next day was a stunning ride along the coast into the beautiful city of Cairns.
So there I was - after more then a thousand km's of super rural dirt roads - standing in a city with my bike. There were bike shops, fast food, supermarkets, people and water galore.
The next three days were spent looking around, cleaning up, buying a new jumper and shirt and organizing my bike storage for my upcoming flight. Fight? Flight you ask? Well you had better read the next blog to find out more...

                                                                            Barking Gecko

                                                                           Mangrove Boardwalk

                                                                                   Fiddler Crab

                                                                                Cairns at night

Cape Tribulation

As I rode through the thick rainforest I was shocked by the sudden appearance of a town! Cape Tribulation is surrounded by the Daintree, and may I say one of the nicest towns I have ever visited.

I checked into P.K Jungle Resort which had been recommended to me on many occasions. After setting up camp I walked down to the beautiful beach to have a refreshing swim. The water was warm and welcoming, and the view from the water looking back at the forest was amazing. 

That night I had a few beers with a very rough group of men who insisted on smoking in the bar, and scared the girls half to death with some sleazy pick-up lines.

They were soon kicked out and I was free to hit the hay.

The next morning I was awake early ready to climb Mt Sorrow. The walk is very demanding and climbs steadily to over 800m's. 

As I started my morning walk I was approached by a group of young locals who were shocked that I had not 'registered' my walk  for safety purposes (like a sign in sign out form). As it happened they were also embarking on the walk, and ordered me to join them. So we walked through the thick growth until late afternoon. One young Canadian guy named Blane took charge to lead us up and I was surprised by the fast pace that he set. However, after a few hours it was obvious that he was struggling and my bicycle fitness kicked in to shame him. Don't mess with these legs mate, they know no bounds...

The scenery was incredible and the view from the top was heart stopping. At one stage I was walking along when a big Lace Monitor (Australia's 2nd biggest lizard) mistook me for a tree and ran up my leg leaving little puncture marks where the long claws had griped me. We looked at each other for a split second of confusion before it doubled back and disappeared into the greenery without so much as an apology.  

When we finally arrived back at the bottom of the track we hopped into a car and headed to a cool, crystal clear water hole. There was a fun rope-swing to bomb into the oasis and I had my sexy tan lines on display for the girls. I have to say here that the afternoon visiting a total of three different water holes was nothing short of magic. They were all hidden away from the tourist route and I was very lucky to have met these locals to dive a little deeper into the beauty of the Daintree. 

                                                                             Strange tree with fruit on trunk

                                                                                 The usual

                                                                               View from Mt Sorrow

                                                                              Some of the team

                                                                                   Bamboo

                                                                                A water hole

                                                                             Rainbow Lorikeet

Beauty of the Daintree

The Daintree Rainforest is the oldest forest in the world. The passing of centuries has allowed biological systems to become complex and incredibly diverse. The lush green trees, cool clear streams, vibrant butterflies, striking birds and loud, active nights create an unforgettable experience for any lucky enough to pass through.

It was under a bright blue sky that I rode down the Bloomfield track through lush rainforest of the Daintree.

My neck ached from hours of looking up into the tree canopy in search of tree-snakes, tree-kangaroos and tropical birds. The track itself was hard-packed dirt with the occasional shallow creek-crossing winding its way through the steep hills of the Great Diving Range. 

To be honest I didn't ride very far for the duration of the forest. The Bloomfield track only covers some 30km's of road, but the forest covers much more. In order to explore the forest a little more thoroughly I only covered some 15km's each day for four days. Including a rest day I was in the forest for five days - and I loved every minute of it.

It's worth noting here that being a 'rain'forest, one would expect a rainy day or two, if only a shower, but I was fortunate enough to experience lovely warm, dry weather until I departed. I have to say that as I rode my bike out of the national park on the my last day, I literally had to cover my mouth and nose as the rain came down so thick that I could not breath. I was drowning on my bike.

The forest came to life at night, and I had to become nocturnal in order to join in the fun. It was for this reason that I spent my days sleeping, riding late and resting. The hills of the Bloomfield are by far the steepest I have ever seen. Anywhere. Ever. EVER. The mountain ranges that I had to cross were at an incredible 30% angle, and I was forced to push my bike for the first time on the trip since the start. The immense humidity, blazing sun and gruelling pushing turned my body into a leaking mess.The trail of water droplets that had fallen from my body was clearly visible in the dirt behind me like a badly leaking car. Every time I stopped to catch my breath I formed a puddle on the ground within seconds. I had never sweated this way before, and it was hard work trying to keep hydrated. When I came across streams I just jumped in fully clothed (they were soaking anyway) to refresh my shrivelling body. I had to rip may leeches from my skin as a result. 

As I wiped the sweat from my eyes at the top of each rise I was instantly rewarded for my effort. The air was fresh, the birds sang and the views were to die for. Looking over the crest at the downhill beyond was daunting as the brakes on my bike screamed under the pressure to slow my bike to a safe speed - some 4km's/hour. If a car came the other way and I was going too fast it would all be over in one steep, slippery moment. 

I managed to find some truly stunning camp spots, both in the depths of the forest, and on the beach looking back into the gloom. 

Camping in the Daintree was perhaps the most magic experience of my life. Fireflies whizzed slowly through the air emitting radiant flashes of light through the darkness. I was able to catch them and look at their little bums light up in an effort to attract partners. Two chambers within their abdomens contain different chemicals which light up upon mixing producing almost pure light energy - 96% light and only 4% heat, compared with a house-hold bulb which produces 60% light and 40% heat. 

A saprotrophic fungi living within the small cavities in dead plant matter (such as dead tree stumps/branches) produced a faint glow in the darkness to attract insects which are responsible for spreading the spores. The effect was mind-blowing. A pitch-black forest buzzing with fireflies over a sea of glowing plant material. Had I crossed into the world of Avatar? 

When the darkness was complete and the animals began to call, it was time for me to take my torch and explore. I walked for hours each night in search of lizards, bats, insects and mammals. Over all I would say that I was largely unlucky with my findings. However I did find native giant rats (GIANT), possums, a beautiful Boyd's Forest Dragon, sleeping birds and some incredible insects.

The Daintree had exceeded my expectation and I was still to reach Cape Tribulation...