Bike – Ryan Anderson Online

NorCal Bike Loop

Posted on August 24, 2017June 22, 2024 by Ryan

In 2010 I cycled across the USA along the Transamerica Trail, somewhere deep in the wilds of Kentucky I met Joe. We continued to ride together until our routes split in Colorado but we have remained great friends since. Joe was turning 30, we were overdue a catch up and a bike trip so we coordinated a 5 day ride in California, with San Francisco as base camp. I flew in from Australia and Joe from Pittsburgh and we stayed with very dear friends Flavia and Vijay who allowed us to turn their living room into a popup bike shop/hostel.

The planned route would take us north east from SF through Sonoma and wine country before cutting west through the Redwoods and finally South along the stunning pacific coastline, connecting the loop back in SF, you can see the full route here.

During the ride I was frequently uploading short Instagram Stories, a compilation of those videos for the entire ride can be watched here.

DAY 1

Starting under textbook SF conditions we navigated through Monday morning traffic to the entrance of Golden Gate bridge, the top of the red struts blanketed in thick fog with a light drizzle testing our handling skills. Bikepacking on a road bike is about as light as you can go for a bike tour, nonetheless an 8kg carbon bike with bags, tent, clothes, supplies etc. still comes out around 18kg.

The omnipresent summer fog in SF doesn’t extend very far inland and conditions change rapidly just a few miles east. We would soon be riding under clear blue skies, hard to believe heading out first thing.

We had a small arsenal of navigational tools. Garmin and paper cue-sheets, both played backup to the Maps.Me iPhone app that I’d imported the route on. After day 2 we really wouldn’t need any of them as we follow CA-128 then CA-1 for most the way. The majority of navigation for the trip was done in the first 20 miles escaping the urban Bay Area sprawl. Somewhere on the outskirts of Los Ranchitos we pulled into a shopping centre for breakfast at a casual diner. Pancakes with sides and coffee all round with our rock star waitress Joanie, she imparted some wisdom before leaving, “Don’t worry about getting your shit figured out, I’m 65 and still haven’t got my shit figured out.”

Things were going swimmingly until I had a huge bug smash me in the temple, it then acquainted itself with my inner eyelid. At the same time Joe got a flat tyre. We pulled over for Joe to replace his tube whilst I handed over the tools and rinsed my eye. That episode out the way we got back to it, cruising along smooth roads stopping occasionally to check directions.

The Old Redwood Highway runs parallel to the busy 101 for a few hundred miles. We used it for the first half of the day with barely a car passing us the entire time. It was a cruisy way for us to re-accustom ourselves to the loaded up bikes and as riding partners again. State bike route signs pointed us the way to Petaluma with some rolling hills and we made good time for lunch at the Walnut Grill in town.

The grill lunch didn’t sit too well and my stomach started popping. At the next general store I made a b-line for the toilet block adjacent, the door was locked! In panic I called over to Joe inside to ask for the key, “Can’t have the key, toilet is broken…”. Right. Back on the bikes, stat. Down the road we went, scanning every field, building, side road for options. At the first sight of what looked like a civilized structure I jumped off the bike and left it for Joe to watch.

Stepping inside I found an upmarket cheese and wine store. A single restroom in the corner had a sign, ‘CUSTOMERS ONLY’. With monumental levels of British politeness I scanned the store for the lowest value item, a bag of crisps. There was a young guy working the till and espresso machine, “Anything else for you?” he asked. Pretending to scan over the wares I replied “You don’t happen to have a restroom do you?”. He brandished the key and I skipped across the floor like Charlie heading to Wonka’s factory. All that business taken care of I returned to Joe awash with relief and smiles.

Riding through some of the best wine country in the world we were obliged to stop in for an afternoon tasting ‘refreshment’ at a cellar door. A quick scout on Trip Advisor highlighted Loxton Cellars as a well rated but casual spot for a couple of cyclists. It was perfect, the winemaker was Australian and we exchanged knowledge of towns close to me in South West Australia. He had a classic laid back ozzy charm, never more than a sentence away from a joke… “The problem with drinking your own wine is you start to think its good!”. The session finished with a chocolate and port pairing that left us salivating. Joe grabbed a bottle of white for the road and they let us off with a free tasting to commemorate the trip.

We left the winery in great spirits to complete somewhat of a victory lap for the last 10 miles into Santa Rosa where we would be staying at a motel for the evening. Flanked by vineyards and the Sugarloaf Ridge I pressed on ahead to town with Joe flagging a little as we pushed over the 80 mile mark, a role reversal from him waiting on me during the TransAm! I had been keen to make this a stopover to visit the world famous Russian River brewery, home to the impeccably rated Pliny The Elder, among other top drops.

We washed our kit in the motel bathroom and hung it out on our room balcony to dry, keeping a fresh kit in rotation for the days ahead. Walking back through town we noticed every restaurant was a Pizza place but all eerily empty. Everyone in town was at Russian River it seemed. We sampled the beers and ate all the pizza with some good company the table next to us visiting from Atlanta. A beautiful balmy evening out celebrating an accomplished first day on the road.

DAY 2

After a good nights sleep in the motel beds we walked across the street in our civvies to Adel’s diner for a bacon and pancakes breakfast. Joe resisted temptation to order ‘The Joe Special’, best not to deviate too far into new food territory with a chance of getting caught (almost) short like me yesterday. We had a few chores to complete before riding, the clothes had dried nicely on the balcony and we packed up the motel room carnage and checked out. Joe carrying his extra bottle of wine and me with a few bottles of Pliny and souvenir Russian River glasses. The plan was to post these back to Flav and VJ’s in SF then take them back to Australia with me at the end of the trip. UPS opened earliest and was a few miles down the road, on route, so we swung by and shipped the goods.

Healdsburg is the next town up from Santa Rosa, Joe wanted to grab another tube and a pump so went to the bike shop in town that opened right as we arrived. The guys at the bike shop pulled out maps and elevations charts of the Geysers Road climb we had coming up, they told us we should ride it in the opposite direction due to the poorer road surface and switchbacks descending the direction we were heading. The bike bags probably should have been enough to inform them we weren’t out on a day ride and riding the opposite way was not an option. Apparently there is a cold spring half way up the climb that we could drink from. With things starting to warm up outside it sounded ideal until they passively mentioned recent tests had shown E. coli in the water, but they’ve been drinking from it for 20 years!

The forecast was very hot and dry 103F (38C) with mercury already rising fast after the early pitstops. We knew Geysers was going to be a tough climb, over 3200 feet of climbing and no services whatsoever for ~40 miles. There would have been one refuel option at the foot of the climb but the Jimtown store, a famous deli amongst local and pro cyclists in the area, was closed on Tuesdays! Only a few miles since we left Healdsburg but we still needed to replenish water supplies so I went looking around the building for a spigot when Joe called me over. He found a sign above a cold water tap welcoming cyclists to use it. Thanks Jimtown!

We started ascending from that point, crawling up the initial bursts of elevation. As the road continued to rise we stopped every few miles, stripping off more layers each time until I was basically down to bib-shorts. The road was super steep and pinchy, I’d guess it was close to 20% in places. After a photo-op looking out over the parched yellow hillsides I set off again tucked behind Joe’s wheel. Joe was already riding with one less gear than me on his rear cassette and as I wound up the hill in my granny gear I was amazed to see Joe haulin’ away in only his second lowest still.

Ryan: “Keeping one spare there Joe?”. Joe: “Huh?”. Ryan: “You’ve got an extra gear back there!”.

Joe tried shifting down, there was nothing left on the cable though. We quickly realised Joe’s rear derailleur wasn’t quite tuned up. Already running low on water and just about out of snacks it wasn’t the time to pull over and start tweaking his drivetrain so we pushed on.

We reached the cold springs the guys had told us about and practically bathed in it without taking a sip. We figured the top of the climb would only be another few miles the we could cruise downhill into the next town. The climb got steeper yet, the road harsher and the sun unbearable, we were being absolutely cooked alive Out of water and starting to get desperate I was taking rests in the shadows of small branches waiting for a mountain lion to jump out. The ride had quickly turned a little alarming. We flagged down two cars who had some extra cold water for us, they were the only cars that we’d seen all afternoon. The descent came but rather than being our saviour it was hell taking us almost 2 hours to get back off the mountain, riding the brakes expending all leftover energy concentrating on the huge potholes whilst navigating the switchbacks that seemed to repeat 20-30 times.

We crawled the last few miles to the town of Cloverdale, even a mile out I had to pull over and slump over my handlebars. At the first store I dumped my bike against the wall, stumbled inside grabbing water and gatorade. Me first instinct post-ride is usually beer and food. Feeling something close to sunstroke I could only think about hydrating for now. Joe pulled up and did the same but also grabbed me an ice cream. We sat on the pavement as locals walked by with curious glances. I felt the guilt of putting Joe through that ride as I planned the route! We had stopped talking for the last hour or so, I looked at Joe, we hugged it out and laughed. Tonight was supposed to end with a camp near Boonville and a shorter day tomorrow. There were no camp options in Cloverdale and we weren’t heading any further. Baked and dirty we resolved to grab another motel room, ride further tomorrow and camp the next few nights instead.

Sitting at a desk now looking at the pictures from the day its hard to represent in words how difficult that ride was. The whole day had only amounted to 53 miles, I practically ride that in my commute to work! It was the heat, simple as. Locals in town had conflicting reports but we heard the temperature actually got up to anywhere from 112-116F (45C+!). Furnace.

DAY 3

With confidence slightly bruised from yesterday’s punishment we rolled down the Main street of Cloverdale in silence. A coffee shop called Plank was just about the only place open but was all we needed to down some caffeine and have a pep talk before setting out for the day. We would have another climb to begin with over a ridge into the next valley, the stupendously named ‘Anderson Valley’. Thankfully the gradient was kind, the temperatures humane and we rediscovered our form, even daring to smile again at the ease of riding in beautiful surroundings.

Morning progress was halted by roadworks, one way traffic on a single lane along CA-128. We got chatty with the worker holding the STOP sign. We quizzed him on food options in Boonville, he recommended a Mexican place called Lizbby’s where I would get the breakfast burrito fix I’ve been craving.

A gradual downhill had us flying into town, the valley was a picture postcard with golden fields sitting in front of interlocking sloped pine forests. The stars in our surnames aligned as we realised we were riding past the Meyer winery in the heart of Anderson Valley.

No surprise that this area is home to the Anderson Valley Brewing company, the art work from the cans perfectly depicts the landscape. I did learn the legendary mascot bear with antlers is called… ‘Beer’ (Bear + Dear!). We stopped by for a photo-op and could smell the fresh brews fermenting. Sadly the taproom wasn’t due to open for another hour but I was reliably informed we could pickup any of the range from the store in Navarro so we headed on to Lizzby’s for lunch.

Joe paused before we headed in to eat “Hold on, quick sanity check…”. This would be our first and only cooked meal for the day so we’d better make it a good one. Sanity checks became commonplace for choosing food the rest of the trip. It might seem harsh to discount a venue based on what the internet has to say but we were quite lenient, anything 3 stars or above was a pass, in fact I don’t remember a venue ever failing the sanity check. Anyways, the food was fresh, hearty and authentic so it was a thumbs up this time. The toilet stalls were different though, they had shower curtains instead of doors…

The heat peaked after lunch around the mid 90s, hot by normal standards but relatively humane after yesterday. A roadside fruit stand made for an idyllic shaded stop. Joe got cherries and I picked up a peach. First bite shooting juice all over me, the bike and ground. Ravenous wasps started circling so it was time to bounce.

The road narrowed as the valley closed in on us, our pace seemed to slow, perhaps the baby burrito was still digesting. Not hungry but in need of supplies for tonight we stopped at the Navarro general store. A popular spot in an otherwise remote stretch of forest, advertisements posted up for live weekend music and BBQ festivals. There was a deli for us to pick up some sandwiches for dinner. We would be camping in Manchester, CA, I’d been once before and there isn’t anything else in Manchester other than the campground. Concerned the day would end without beer I grabbed some Anderson Valley EETAH! IPAs for us from the fridge and stuffed them in my backpack.

The CA-128 bent west towards the coast carving through magnificent redwood forest. No shoulder and the traffic was a little heavier than anticipated but all drivers were courteous. Something i had genuinely forgotten about all my riding in the USA, the drivers are simply amazing or are the Australian drivers just terrible? Fully slowing down to a crawl until its absolutely clear ahead and safe to pass, always moving over into the opposite lane giving smiles and hand ups. Not a single dose of aggression or road rage to report. Back in the forest the trees grew taller until the road was blanketed in shade. We pulled over several times just to rest our bikes against a trunk and take in the majesty.

Joe had done his homework on the Navarro River Redwoods, he learned this was all second growth after heavy logging in the 19th century. The stumps of the old logged redwoods sat dormant in between, 3-4 times wider than the new ‘shoots’, which themselves were dizzying in height.

Suddenly the air turned cool and salty as we broke through dense forest revealing fast rolling fog across a turquoise river mouth, a dramatic transition.

The fog barrelled in as we reached the coast, hindering initial views of the pacific. We stopped in at the Elk store, one of maybe 4 buildings in town. Blink and you’d miss it. The store was charming, 50s decor with enamel and brass fixtures, quite a throwback. Coffee and pastries kept us topped up. The Elk store fridge was stocked with Anderson Valley beers, could have bought them there instead!

Later that afternoon we rode through bursts of fog making it difficult to find a comfortable body temperature. Smart layering is key to coastal riding, you can be hot, cold, sweaty all within a few minutes. Before we had chance to redress the sun eventually flourished in clearer skies as we began the ‘Victory Lap’ aka the last 10 miles of the day.

Some challenging twisting climbs tested Joe’s lack of an easy gear but it allowed me some more time to take pictures of the scenery and him! Stunning coastal riding.

The views got better as the sun eventually won out. Gilstening ocean crashing against rocky juts, tiny hidden beaches, inaccessible yet preserved.

Rolling into the Manchester KOA campground we rejoiced at a more triumphant finish than yesterday. KOAs are well kitted out for family holidays so are complete with facilities like laundry, pool, even a store. Unsurprisingly they also had Anderson Valley beers. So I needn’t have carried and warmed our cans for the last 40 miles!

Joe was using the same 1-man tent from the TransAm, he hadn’t unraveled it once throughout the past 7 years! He decided it would be more entertaining for us to find out what lurked inside during the trip. The tent turned out surprisingly mold-free, the hard part was him figuring out how to construct it again. Another piece of kit that had stood the test of time was his red Thermarest. He loaned it to me when stopped by Pittsburgh during the 2012 Northern Tier ride and I’ve had it ever since but finally reunited with its owner.

A few other bike tourers were in the plots next to us but after washing, food and beer we retired to our tents as some kids at camp started to play a movie. Apparently quiet time doesn’t start till 10pm. The beer had got me drowsy and I passed out in seconds.

DAY 4

We appeared to be the first up at camp, it almost felt like we were sneaking out between the sleepy trailers. There was a cold moisture in the air so the first 15 miles of rolling hills warmed us up as we reached the next town, Point Arena, to scout out a proper breakfast. An old guy wearing a trench coat and akubra style hat shuffled over to grumble “Don’t trust that thing.”, angling at my iPhone. How we made it this far on a self supported bike trip without his wisdom is unknown. Turns out we were right to trust ‘that thing’ as Yelp informed us the cafe didn’t open for another half hour. Rather than idling about we continued into town to find a general store serving up 2kg breakfast burritos. Neither of us were able to finish, even after making extra space in the sizeable restroom, complete with Monet paintings! We joked about the unusual town name ‘Point Arena’ passing time by thinking of tourism slogans like “Get to the Point!”.

A phrase often shouted between touring cyclists heading in opposite directions is ‘You’re going the wrong way!”. When it comes to the Pacific Coast, you really are going the wrong way if heading north. Not only are the winds genuinely a factor and almost always blowing from the North but all of best scenery can only be observed heading south in the coast-side right lane. I know this in part from riding it North for 2 days at the end of the TransAm and thinking I need to do more of this route but heading the other way!

Looking down over the cliff edge on those tight Highway 1 shoulders is equal parts exhilarating, terrifying and astonishing. You would miss from a car just a metre away let alone the far side of the road. Needless to say almost everyone rides it south for that reason, I recall one rider heading north, I’d guess a ratio of approximately 10:1.

Second morning coffee in Gualala got us kicking to tackle more coastal hills as we seemed to find a consistent rhythm, hill, roll, hill, roll, sceneic lookout, next small town and repeat.

Filling in for Terry’s absence, one of our other mainstay riding partners during the TransAm, we would shout things in Australian accents like ‘Car Back!’ and ‘I could bloody murder a Pinot Gris!”. We share the type of friendship filled with inside jokes and personal derision that are pure gold to us but would bewilder a bystander.

We encountered an entire family also riding the coast south. Mum, Dad and two young boys who must have been no older than 10, both riding their own, loaded touring bikes! They were from France but had lived in Australia giving them the most peculiar French-Aussie accent. This is not easy riding, continuous short hill repeats with technical hairpins at each river gulch and busy traffic at times. It was easy to look at the boys and put your feelings on them, thinking they must be finding it hard going, in reality they were probably having the greatest summer holiday ever!

Deli sandwich lunch again, this time at the Fort Ross store. I lent my bike against the wall under the store window and was scowled at by the women working inside, she told me to move the bike around the back. I wouldn’t care but for some reason I had even checked for a sign or notice about bike parking, strange intuition. I did stop here with Eal 5 years ago so maybe some vague memory was triggered and that same women probably scowled at me then!

The french family had kept pace with us to Fort Ross, we had been riding for 20 minutes since speaking to them and they were only a few minutes behind us to this point, they stopped at Fort Ross historical site for a picnic, it was free entry to the site for cyclists. Fort Ross was a Russian settlement in the early 1800s, we explored the grounds for a while with some underbiking on its gravel roads on our 28mm tyres before waving goodbye to the family and continuing south.

Each time the road meets an inlet it takes a sweeping turn to the cliffside, you zip down away from the coast to the point of the hairpin then swing back west. If you get your angles right you can maintain speed which will get you most of the way up the other side. Entertaining riding, like a big dipper rollercoaster, it became best practice to move into the centre of the road before taking the initial bend to give yourself as much space to brake and turn into, smart defensive riding to stop a car from overtaking.

From riding this section in 2012 I had vague memories of a crazy switchback descent before Jenner that hovered above the ocean. My memory conveniently forgot about the climbing that preceded it. Some roadworks had us paused on a steep incline waiting for the guy to swing his sign around to let us pass. The queued cars went ahead first which meant we then had the stretch of road to ourself for the next 10 minutes until the next batch was let through. Restarting on the inclines, even in lowest gear, made for some excruciating chain stretching cranks.

The views of the coastline were ample reward for the steep undulating riding. So stunning it was hard not to be moved, very humbling awe-inspiring moments, just magical. It was foggy for this section back in 2012, amazing how different an experience can be depending on conditions, this was essentially all new to me.

The climbing continued. After Geysers Road on Day 2 we didn’t bother to look at the elevation charts on the cue-sheets I printed. If we had there would have been some prominent spikes prior to Jenner. Destination for the day was Bodega Bay, at sea level, here we were about 15 miles away still climbing up, yet again, towards 500 feet! The peak of the climb was unmistakable as the crazy switchback I had recalled mapped out below us from a stunning view point.

For the next 10 minutes it was time to sit back and take it all in as we glided down towards the bay. Some of the bends were sharp, almost 90 degree turns, with Joe 20 metres ahead he looked as though he was about to paraglide off into the ocean. At one stage a vulture was above him wings spread, Joe took the corner while the vulture continued over the cliff edge like some epic stuntman scene.

It was victory lap time, those miles were so fondly thought of we stopped counting them in our daily mileage. A 75 mile day would become a 65 mile day + Victory Lap, then beer. We pulled over as the descent eventually bottomed out to look at rock stacks in the ocean. We couldn’t wipe the grins away and didn’t want to, Joe summed it up simply with “That’s as good as it gets!”.

Bodega Bay Dunes campground was full, but they have hiker biker group areas. Even the group area was busy with 6-7 other riders already setup. We had a little trouble pitching on the leftover sandy patches but eventually found a small section of firm ground which meant the tents were practically touching. We chatted for a while with a retired guy, Reg from Chino, who had been undertaking short self-supported bike tours for several decades. We discussed equipment, route choices while Joe drip-dried after his shower. Joe had forgotten his towel so was now hunched over wringing his hair out.

We rode our unloaded bikes the short distance into the town of Bodega Bay itself for beer and food, sharing a small toast for our final night on the road. Then grabbing dessert and a nightcap beer to take back to camp. The beer helps you sleep.

DAY 5

As we packed up Joe decided he was going to shed some weight so binned his tent that had served him diligently but was reaching its end. Again, we rolled out of camp early, a cool and still morning. I knew of a place me and Eal had gone to for breakfast in 2012 on the opposite end of town called The Tides Wharf. Its a tucked away spot hidden behind a car park and what looks like a mini-mall, you’d otherwise miss it if you didn’t know which was lucky because nowhere else was open for breakfast.

Riding started fast but we dispersed as the rollers got bigger until they eventually became genuine climb efforts. This area is mostly farmland, with over cast skies it almost looks like British countryside. I didn’t enjoy this section that last time I was here but the roads had been repaved since and I was feeling strong zipping across the fresh tarmac.

We continued without stopping in the farming town of Valley Ford and pushed on for Tomales, passing sections of eucalyptus forest that was reminiscent of riding in Perth. Tomales has a small town bakery which already had a few cyclists at sipping on coffee. We chatted with the locals a while and snacked outside but it quickly got chilly after stopping so hopped back on the bikes keen to make good time getting back to San Francisco that afternoon.

After more fast rollers along the Tomales with all its cute ramshackle oyster shacks we reached Point Reyes Station. It seems a popular town for locals in the Bay area and headlands. This is my second visit and I don’t particularly care for it, I didn’t even take a picture! Its essentially a small town with busy traffic, the first semi-remote town north of San Francisco its a strange mix of bohemian vibes catering for wealthy weekend tourists. We looked up a few lunch options and settled on a restaurant that was a little hectic, but it filled the stomach.

Leaving town we had the last real climb of the trip which starts immediately after the left turn at Olema on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard. Still feeling strong I spun up without breaking sweat. After the crest the road twists gently downhill through some more redwood forest as the suburban towns of Marin County start to build in size. A final afternoon coffee in San Anselmo to see us home. We were back to civilisation, people everywhere, bustling, which means more attention on the navigation.

The pair of us were pretty spent with 5 days racked up in the legs. We slowed considerably as we passed through Sausalito approaching the Golden Gate Bridge. Pedalling just a few revolutions at a time then coasting to a stop. As much as a we wanted a shower, beer, dinner maybe the lethargy was in part due to the ride ending. Its been 7 years since we last rode together, who knows when we will next get a chance.

There must have be two dozen tourists on rental bikes making the killer climb up Alexander Ave to the Golden Gate entrance. Mass confusion ensued as always at this point with confusing signs and peak hour traffic but we finally found our way to the west side of the bridge which is cyclist only in the afternoon, you ride the east side in the AM.

Coasting across the Golden Gate bridge again, looking out at the Pacific for whales, sucking in the sea breeze whilst processing the last few days. Tired but content with the opportunity to ride together. I snapped a few last pictures and videos then asked a stranger to grab a picture of us both.

Time for the final victory lap navigating back to Flavia and Vijay’s place in Inner Sunset. I’d cycled over to the headlands and back a few times so knew the way by now, guiding us up through Presidio then Golden Gate Park and eventually the steep sloped streets towards Inner Sunset which sits at the foot of Mount Sutro, just to burn a few more calories!

Panting and breathless after the final incline we hugged and shook hands on a job well done. It had been 5 days but coming full circle in a loop like this felt like one continuous ride start to finish. Day 1 we cruised, 2 was killer, 3 was the comeback, 4 was mind blowing and 5, mostly contemplative, all up we had covered around 77 miles (124km) per day. One flat, many beers and a million laughs. I absolutely love riding the pacific coast, the Oregon section is even better! Maybe that will work its way onto the radar again in the future…

– T H E E N D –

Wheatbelt Wheels

Posted on June 5, 2015June 22, 2024 by Ryan

Following a brilliant little micro-tour in the south west earlier this year I decided to take advantage of another public holiday weekend to go and explore some more of this magnificent state, Western Australia. Fittingly it was the designated WA Day weekend and I had mapped out a quick route inland from Perth this time towards the region known as ‘The Wheatbelt’. A few people have asked me how I manage to get so much time off work, the answer is I don’t! But whilst they are sleeping in on their Saturday mornings with a hangover in the mail I’m already up and on the road. The simplicity of starting an adventure from your doorstep requires less planning and is a cheap alternative to a grand adventure, don’t wait to go cross country, go overnight!

Winter has arrived in Perth which means cool, crisp mornings until the sun comes out and settles around the low 20’s. A dry weekend and light wind provided almost perfect conditions for cycling. Some other roadies out on their weekend rides quizzed me on my gear and destination as they zipped past, self-supported is a very alien concept to many cyclists. Touring, particularly bikepacking is a very niche activity and I’m seldom as animated about discussing any topic as I am when it comes to bike touring so I was happy to field questions. I climbed up into the Perth hills through Helena Valley towards Mundaring, beautiful forest suburbs. Stopping for coffee and cake at a Dome cafe briefly to re-engerise after the first 40kms(25 miles) I would eventually be riding about 175km(109 miles) each day.

Avoiding the Great Eastern Highway where possible I weaved up and around it on back roads where what looked like a cross-country running event was taking place. Each participant was being clapped and encouraged by volunteers, sadly I didn’t get the same treatment but gave the thumbs up to the runners as I passed. The aptly named Bakers Hill, a bakery stop on top of a hill was the first opportunity for lunch. The pies looked super greasy, in a good way, but I wasn’t quite ready to stomach lunch so instead accepted the glances from the motorcycle gangs and trucked onwards to Northam.

Northam was one of those towns remote enough to be classed as country but big enough to sustain the usual chain fast foods joints. It didn’t leave me with the most charming impression but that might have been in part due to a puncture I had just gotten. The culprit was a small piece of metal wire that i was unable to pluck out with my nails, not having any tweezers on me I resorted to filing the wire with a stone until it was smooth and recessed back into the tyre then slapped 3 tube patches over it for cushion. Replacement tube held perfect, it had cost me half an hour but I had plenty daylight left to reach my destination. The small town soon gave way to endless wheatfields, something about golden fields on a blue sky backdrop that is so idyllic and lazy. It made for a beautifully tranquil afternoon of cycling, only one dog chase of note but luckily it heeled at the end of the farm driveway.

Eventually I had to join the Great Eastern Highway, home to huge road train trucks heading back and forth to the mining super pit another 400km east in Kalgoorlie. There was a decent shoulder and the truckers were very courteous, a good riding experience to have as I look to do a Perth to Sydney when time allows. My final pitstop was Meckering, a town famous for an earthquake back in the 60’s, the town had to be rebuilt on a fresh site just south of the original area. On the edge of town was a remarkable building that had been modified to look like an SLR camera. There were two guys chatting outside and when i pulled in one of them began to unload photography history on me, I assumed he was the proprietor and asked him for the tour, there was a $12 charge to gain access to the backroom so i took the gamble. What I found was a large open room with row after row of impeccable camera models dating from the dawn of time to present, the collection was incredible and I spent a good 20 minutes scanning over everything, I could have spent longer but was keen to arrive in Cunderdin before dark.

For the last 30km(18 miles) stretch I was accompanied by a moonrise and long shadows. The surroundings becoming increasingly remote, less civilization and more outback. I made it to Cunderdin clocking on 170km(106 miles) and found the funky Ettamogah Pub, they weren’t open for dinner yet so I rode around town until I found the caravan park to pitch up town. There was a number to call for reservation, the owner Jim picked up and agreed to meet me outfront then apologised on arrival for taking so long because he was on the toilet! Pitched up and took a great hot shower before heading to the pub.

The inside of the Ettamogah didn’t quite match the vibe of the outside, tap choices were Carlton Gold, Carlton Mid, Carlton Dry…so i asked for a Carlton, sort of a lucky dip I guess. I promptly ordered the parma and chips, no salad in sight with the dish. I debated a second beer but the place was pretty dead and lacking atmosphere so I opted for some catch-up on my phone and an early night in the tent was a better option. Laying in this tent at the end of a long ride inevitably brings back memories of previous tours, especially this time of year when I have been on the road many times before so I had a glance back at old blog posts for a bit of a ‘where was i on this day’ type thing and found I was both here in 2012 and here in 2010.

I was perfectly warm all night in the tent, even had surplus layers but they were needed the next morning. My alarm was set for 5:30am and I packed up sharpish and hit the road for sunrise. As it broke a huge flock of Galah flew, screaming, around a tree top. It was an incredible thing to witness with the birds black silhouettes against the purple sky putting on a show in otherwise still surrounds.

The knitwear came in handy and was super comfy to ride in, my toes got a little cold but the day was getting warmer. I felt sluggish for some reason, the thick cut stone surface on the road certainly wasn’t helping to ease rolling resistance but I later found from studying my Strava GPS that I had been steadily climbing for the first part of the morning ride.

It would be 75km(46 miles) before I would have any services for breakfast this morning so I made the odd pit-stop to grab banana and chocolate bars from my pack. There were a few super old abandoned buildings along the roadside that I had been reading were left behind when a train line was built connecting the towns parallel to the north. They peaked my interest for a while until I reverted to iPhone for music, good vibes and the wind behind me I arrived in York, WA. I’d already picked out Jules Cafe on Urbanspoon as my go to and found myself a spot inside the cute cafe and inhaled my coffee with fried breakfast then proceeded to get a second coffee before tackling the last 100km (62 miles).

Unfortunately at this point the country roads bottlenecked into the highway and I was left with no choice but to ride the 120 back to the Perth metro area. The shoulder was tight but traffic levels just about manageable, it did mean I had to maintin focus rather then soaking up the landscape. I had not anticipated so much climbing for this section either, it was quite a long slog back up to the peak of the Perth hills. Salvation came at The Lakes service station, re-topped my bottles and had myself a donut and ginger beer welcoming ‘G’days!’ of every man and his dog whilst sat on the brick wall in the sunshine.

I knew the way home from here as this area forms part of a local loop I do from time to time which meant i was able to avoid major roads and span through quite tree lined streets instead. Today was the public holiday and apparently the day everybody had chosen to do excess leaf and wood burn-offs. The hills were thick with wood smoke but it smelt amazing and I enjoyed the screaming downhill back to Perth and connected onto a bike path that would lead me to my apartment. Mission accomplished, 347km(217 miles) total in around 32 hours! Sleepy and in need of shower, food, cold beer, in that order.

Footnote, if you got this far then thanks for looking. This year I have seen so much hatred towards cyclists on my Facebook feed of people sharing articles and rants about riders on the road. I hope everybody can learn some patience and chill, stop the aggression, share the roads and quit the pedantic arguments such as ‘He jumped a red light!’, ‘There is a bike path next to the road!’ If you have time to be enraged at a person pushing away with their own steam on two wheels then you are living a very pathetic life, get some hobbies and practice some compassion, maybe try cycling? 🙂

Bikepacking, WA

Posted on January 27, 2015June 22, 2024 by Ryan

It’s been almost 2 and a half years since finishing my last proper bike tour and I’ve been idling for some time on the road for a while now. The long Australia Day weekend was beckoning me to go get good and lost with nothing but my bike and wit for company so I set about planning a short tour of the South West Australian countryside.

If you don’t like pictures of bikes, my lycra clad groin or forest roads maybe you can just read the words but hopefully you can make something enjoyable of this. With about a weeks notice I whipped up a rough route that would take me down roads I’d never ridden to towns I’d never been. I made use of the TransWA Australind train service to get out of the city and away from the urban sprawl of roads I already frequent at weekends. Leaving on Friday night straight from work I got some pretty good stares at the platform from the other passengers heading down to Bunbury for the weekend.

I had arranged to stay with Linda and Jose for the night, friends from the cycling hospitality network. We had both hosted another cyclist called Lyndal just last year so it was great to make more connections. They met me at the station and we pedalled back to their place before sharing past tails of bike adventures in the USA and all the same places we had ridden, no forgetting Jeffrey City, Wyoming…

The next morning Jose made me the best homebrew coffee I ever did drink and Linda marvelled me by hand feeding the local magpies whilst Chico the old dog gave himself up for petting. Suddenly anxious not to let the day get away I packed up and Linda offered to direct me out of town along a coastal route rather than the highway.

Forecast all weekend was going to be hot, around 33C (91F), dry with south easterly winds. Linda took me to the highway section I was due to join and we said goodbyes. This was to be the more tedious section of the trip route, but only 20km (12mi) along the busy highway, a good shoulder helped until my turn off. I must have passed 10 Australian car flags by the side of the road before opting to finally pick one up and stick it out the back of my seatpost bag.

The ride followed close to the coastline but just set back amongst the Tuart forest. Things started to get a little morbid as I passed one dead kangaroo after another, I lost count in minutes, must have been 50 easily that morning. The smell of roadkill when you roll past it on a bicycle is brutal. I was barely getting a fresh lung of air before the next stench kicked in, if nothing else I knew I was alive. Pit stop of cold poptarts and bananas kept my energy levels up until Busselton.

I normally try to avoid larger towns on rides, but as I was going to be spending the evening in the middle of nowhere and there were no more services after this today (or indeed the first half of tomorrow) I made the most of a second breakfast at a cafe in town before resupplying water/snacks and headed inland to what felt like the real start of the adventure. The days heat had just started to kick in and those hot easterly winds from the Australian interior were bucking me right in the face.

As the forest grew thicker and traffic thinned out to a rate of about 1 car every 15 minutes I started to feel isolated. I then quickly realised I had made a grave error in judgement. I haven’t toured for a while so was a little out of touch and hadn’t given proper consideration to the lack of services for the afternoon and following morning. Destination for the evening was a DPAW campground at Sues Bridge which had zero facilities aside from a pit toilet. My water rations dwindled quicker than expected in the headwinds and I soon knew I would be without water tomorrow until Nannup. It was worry enough to start seeding doubts in my mind about proceedings so I drew on younger Ryan’s tour experiences to tell old Ryan to put up and get on with it. The afternoon played out as a small psychological battle until my turn off for the site came into view after 120km (75mi) of riding.

Luck was in at the campground and as I had hoped there were a few other campervans pulled in for the night, mostly retired Aussie couples that were sitting around gassing about whether or not they had a bucket list. I unashamedly went straight over to ask for water which they happily gave me by the gallon and ended up making conversation with them for a while before making camp myself and heading down to the river to clean off my tired limbs. The water was clear and warm, in the most idyllic spot you could imagine, beautiful.

I had my sandwhich supper and headed back over to chat with the oldies about their respective trips. They were all from Tasmania and seemed like they had been settled in this particular spot for a few days. They couldn’t tell me enough times about the huge climb awaiting me tomorrow between Nannup and Bridgetown, I told them I loved the climbs (best views!) and thanked them for the heads up, then it was time to hit the hay. I was zonked but happy to avoid cramp which seems to get me on the first day of these rides.

Tour Tip: Put your jersey and bibshorts in the bottom of your sleeping bag so they are warm to put on the next morning.

I woke a few times to a sound I wasn’t accustomed too but easily recognised all the same. It’s easy to pick out footsteps or small mammals breaking twigs and crushing leaves. These sounds were the unmistakeable hops of marsupial friends bounding around the site at dawn. I was packed up and back on the road by 7am feeling good, the air was perfect and the heat was yet to hit. I slammed out the first 56km (35mi) to Nannup through stunning Jarrah and Karri forests now with a few (live) Kangaroos making themselves known to me along the roadside.

This was the Brockman highway, I had anticipated heavier traffic for the public holiday weekend but wasn’t complaining, I was no longer heading due south east so my road change turned the headwind into a more managable crosswind. I must have climbed onto some sort of ridge line yesterday afternoon as I was gently rolling along, hardly shifting out of the same 2 gears.

First there was the shire of Nannup sign, then the welcome to Nannup sign, then Nannup 2km sign, then finally Nannup. Sometimes I would swear true that somebody had physically moved the townsite further away, typically when I’m getting impatient for a coffee. The little town finally arrived and I picked out a cafe for breakfast, there were a few to choose from but I couldn’t look past the one painted bright purple.

Tour Tip: If your bike is laden with weight and you need to pump tyres, elevate it first by hooking the seat or frame triangle on a sturdy tree branch.

Whilst I was busy lollygagging over a second coffee the tin roof of the cafe began to expand and twang under the rising temperature. Time to tackle that climb along Tourist drive 251: Nannup to Bridgetown. It was a decent little pinch out of town that had me up out the saddle a few times. Always remember to look back at the top of a hill to appreciate the view from the other direction. It was a magnificent lookout with the towns little reservoir pool very inviting.

The area was covered in pine forest plantations and the smell of hot pine bark is my absolute favourite, brings back lots of great memories cycling in Idaho and Oregon, a simple existence on the bike. This was to be the best part of the whole route and a must for any cyclist worth his salty cap salt in Western Australia, I’ve probably set an easy to beat Strava segment time for you to crank at too. The pines turned back to dense Karri and Jarrah forest, traffic still almost non-existent. I was in heaven for the rest of the afternoon, it truly caught me off guard, these random three towns I had plotted to form a 3 day bike loop had delivered some of the best riding imaginable. Lucky boy, who dares wins.

Arriving in Bridgetown late afternoon I located the caravan park where I was hoping to pitch up for the night, they had plenty space and Keith the owner, in his Australian flag singlet, told me about the free sausage sizzle going down at 5pm, bonus. I got my first proper shower in 2 days, cleaned my bike clothes in the laundry sinks and hung them out to dry. The first opportunity of the weekend for a cold pint came about as I headed into town to find the Bridgetown Hotel. I got a James Squire of the tap and sat out back listening to the live country band singing about ‘rats and roaches’. The locals seemed to dig it at least.

Most people at the caravan park were residents, they fired away with all the usual tent questions I’ve fielded before, Does it have an en-suite? Ever take any girls back in there? They were good fun. I overheard two thick Teesside accents coming from a couple sat around the sizzle feast so I made myself known to them. Turns out they were indeed from my own Middlesbrough, even had their wedding reception in the Cleveland Bay 40 odd years ago! They had lived in Oz ever since.

The final days ride was Australia Day! The locals had all invited me to the free breakfast held annually at the showgrounds. It kicked off at 7:30am which was good because I had just over 100km (60mi) to ride for the day to catch the one and only train back to Perth from Bunbury at 2:30pm. I was probably the only person under 60 at the breakfast and the old timers quizzed me about logistics of the trip. It was forecast tailwinds so I was excited to get out and eat up some distance, the last day of a trip inevitably seems to switch focus to the end point and getting the job done. A real sense of accomplishment.

The hills were large and rolling all the way to Balingup, staunchly pronounced Baylingup by locals. They might as well stick a ‘y’ in, kind of like how Cockburn should just be renamed Co’burn to save the town peoples blushes. Coffee and muffin in BAY-lingup to stay focused, the nice cafe lady offered to refill my water bottles too. It was a very small town, but cute and artsy, they had also just finished up a free Aussie day breakfast in the town park.

Two fully loaded rack and pannier bike tourers came my way, Germans riding around Oz. I gave them some tips for the towns ahead and we split. I was cruising to Donnybrook and enjoyed some big descents as I gradually made my way back down to sea level. Pit stop at an IGA for some pineapple, pop and trail mix and I hit the highway again. I had neglected my alternate route option from Kirrup to get of the main road due to bush fires I could see in the distance on my left side. There was one last delight after taking a right turn and following the back country Hurst Road before rejoining the highway to Bunbury, arriving in town with a few hours to spare.

I find bike touring helps me to re-calibrate my moral compass to a course that makes me happier. You have to earn everything on the road. You can’t just grab a cold drink if you want one, or take a nap on your comfy bed. We are too passive, it forces you to engage with the scenery, conditions and the people. You become less wasteful, and more grateful. That ice cold can you have at the end of all those hot miles, built up in your mind throughout the day, the dreaming and immensity of it’s refreshment. It turns into more than just a can. It’s pure gold. I also love the physicality of it which helps but as JFK said: “Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride.”

Land Down Under

Posted on January 30, 2013June 22, 2024 by Ryan

Arriving in Brisbane we were welcomed not only by warmer temperatures but some more wonderful warmshower hosts John and Carolyn, thanks guys, especially for the incredible mangos! It would be a short-lived stay in Brisbane. Amid riding up Mount Coot-tha, meeting up with Terry from the transam ride and what seemed a never-ending uncertainty over job positions, I was finally offered a place in Brisbane but also offered a job in Perth. A fantastic opportunity given that cousin Glen along with school buddies Will and Pete have all recently moved there, no brainer. By then Eal had made the decision it was time for him to return home, just in time for Christmas. It was very strange saying goodbye as I set off to fly across Australia from QLD to WA. I was completely cut up in the taxi to the airport, the trip had ended and despite being super excited to start working again I was incredibly sad. We’ve had such a good run and lived out of one another’s pockets for 6+ months and now I probably wont see Eal for at least 6 more months.

So I have started a fresh in Perth, WA. Made all the easier with close friends helping me out just as all the road angels have done since last May. Here come the thank you’s, warmest wishes to Wim, Javier, Norma & Bob, John Lynch, Deb Franke, Jeffrey Odolski, Kyler, Joe Meyer, Bill & Kate Morris, Terry Strout, Elsie Hanning, Donn Olson, Bob Bergren, Greg Siple – Adventure Cycling, Emily B, Flavia, Julianna & Ivan, John & Jessi, Kevin & Jenny, John & Carolyn, The Detour Bar – Petersburg Iowa, Hellgate Cyclery, Larry Buzzard – Spokesmen Cycling. All of those people and many more make bicycle touring more enjoyable and worthwhile.

I don’t know how long I will be in Oz, if it will be over a year I plan on visiting home around Easter, right now I am just enjoying the chance to live and work in such an amazing place. The following images may be true but are still intended as a joke. If you can’t have a sense of humour about being from Middlesbrough, you’re struggling…

47153156 — Old commute along Portrack lane.

This post will conclude the blog, but I am not particularly comfortable with complete closure. I have always gotten very attached to experiences/memories/trips. I daydream way to much and like nothing more than reminiscing. Its hard to relate bike touring to somebody who has never done it. Its not an elite club, anyone can do it! But not many do. Bicycle touring has allowed me to get closer to the person I want to be and its allowed me to get very close to new friends in a short space of time. It has shown me a level of simplicity and happiness that many people long for and given me an appreciation for the smallest things in life. Smile, be kind, wave to a stranger, do a good deed for a neighbour and see the warmth it will give you. There is no remedy for love but to love more. Now go ride a bicycle like you’re 10 years old!

An End Has A Start

Posted on January 9, 2013June 22, 2024 by Ryan

It was gloomy and chilly for the ride out of Dunedin. We passed through the university end of town which neither of us had chance to visit during our stay. There was a strong headwind and hills ahead, it was all very Scottish. Eal, still feeling weak having been ill for the past few days, passed up the chance to attempt riding the world’s steepest street. So did I, without such excuses. I’m sure J C Meyer would debate its official steepness having given me the tour of Pittsburgh’s ‘dirty dozen’.

By lunch the rain had came making for a miserable stop off underneath the tiniest shelter. As always we made light of the situation joking about old school pals, talking about who the daftest dog is and mocking one another incessantly. By the time we reached Moeraki I was ready to sit in a warm pub with a stout. I pitched up the tent, showered, ate (rice and soup, standard) and was heading down to the nearest place just as Eal was arriving. He met me later on where I had been joined at my table by a couple, Sal and Hugh. We talked the night away, telling tales from the road. Before the evening was out they had offered us a place to stay at our destination in two days time!

Waking to pitter patter on my tent usually means more sleep. I heard no rustling form Eal so I pulled my sleeping bag hood up and snoozed some more. It hadn’t let up by the time I woke again. We eventually packed up and had some breakfast, sitting under a small porchway besides the camp kitchen. Trying to wait out New Zealand rain is a fools game so we hit the road. Eal made an observation on the birds. UK birds don’t seem to like rain much, they choose to stay dry in the trees and don’t mess about at night. NZ birds love the rain, constantly splashing about in puddles with wet feathers and always larking around after sundown. I took heart from the birdies.

We stopped at Moeraki boulders as recommended to us by John and Jessi in SF in what was the only fleeting dry spell of the day. From then on it poured, much to the birds delight. My shoes now held the contents of a small lake, hands shrivelled again. We reached the town of Oamaru without any accommodation options lined up. No camping around, it was always going to be a backpacker night. We find the only place in town with a spare room. Slightly over-priced, super small but DRY. Short of doing laundry and using a tumble dryer, which we only have time for on rest days, there is nothing that can be done for the cycling gear worn on days like this. You have to write them off, tie them up into a plastic bag and throw them to the bottom of a pannier. Heavy rain means no camera action, so just the one picture chaps!

An extended breakfast was had, ploughing through some early job applications with one eye now firmly on Australia. I set out a while after Eal with a mega tailwind, it was flat and I was cranking. The first 40 miles were devoured in just over 2 hours. I was even riding in my converse due to my waterlogged bike shoes. I find Eal snacking by a picnic bench where i stopped to chow down some pastries picked up in Oamaru.

We rode together for the rest of the ride to Temuka, stopping briefly in Timaru for some library action. Temuka was home to Sal and Hugh who had offered to put us up in Hugh’s currently vacant rental place for the evening. We had bought them a couple of 18th Amendments (my favourite New Zealand brew) to thank them. Thank you guys!

The end was certainly tangible now. Just two more days of riding. Head down crank out, get ’em done. My head has been at sixes and sevens about wishing the riding to be over with. I love bicycle touring and have loved every single second of this trip which is why I feel a little conflicted and uncomfortable wishing away these care free days. Its a tricky one, so I try not over-think it. I just need something new in my daily routine outside of mile counting and pedal turning.

One last camp on the eve of my 26th birthday, we ate inside the camp kitchen as usual where we were joined by few elderly Australian couples who quizzed us over our trip and impending arrival to their shores. I hit the hay for a final kip on my trusty airmat. As I closed my heavy lids I glimpsed in a split second a street, face, town, dinner, mountain, river from every single day of riding. We lived it.

u5T8p — What are you waiting for? Live it! (After you have finished reading.)

26, I am 26! Happy birthday to me. Still sounds incredibly young. Woop. I roll away airmat, sleeping bag, pack panniers with super efficiency. This routine has had some practice now. Oh trusty vango tent, you have been wonderful, good job. Eal bought me breakfast at the lovely cafe next to the campground. The sun was out, birds singing, the area was buzzing for the big horse racing weekend in Canterbury. Even Prince Charles was in town, he shares the same birthday as me, what a coincidence!

With much gusto I span into the day happy and free. Me and Eal had agreed on a meeting spot before entering Christchurch so we could ride in together. I waited at the turn for a good hour with no sign so assumed he had taken an earlier road. I continued on and soon reached the outskirts of town where traffic picked up but thankfully so did the bike paths. Heading past the Christchurch town sign on a bridge over a street named ‘Anderson’ I shed a few tears, overwhelmed by spending a birthday away from friends and family and the culmination of a 6 month bike ride. A powerful and rare moment, sure can be emotional this adventuring jazz, I felt 10 feet tall though.

We pedalled down Europe all the way to Lisbon, through the Ardennes, over the Alps, winding past Vineyards and conquering the Pyrenees. From Boston to San Francisco zig-zagging the Appalachians, beating the heat in the midwest, huffed over the rockies and down the pacific coast. Pushed around middle earth New Zealand’s north and south islands over thermal hotbeds, up glaciers and across rugged landscapes. My mind, heart and soul grown exponentially.

The evening was spent in ‘Jailhouse accommodation’, a converted jail now backpacker hostel. We scored dinner, dessert and beers to celebrate meine geburtstag. Christchurch certainly surprised. Much media coverage was made of the earthquake here several years ago but to be honest I barely heard a jot since. Due to political wrangling amongst other complications and debates on rebuilding most of the clean up and development has stalled. The ENTIRE downtown area is still completely closed off by mesh fences, with crumbling buildings and overgrown weeds making it appear to be a post apocalyptic film set

The next couple of days were spent preparing for Australia whilst hopping to a new hostel each night. The town was super busy with the horse racing event coinciding with Canterbury’s public holiday weekend. Thankfully each place was wonderful and the weather beautiful. We boxed the bikes up and set early alarms for our Brisbane flight, Australia here come!

Almost Dunedin

Posted on December 16, 2012June 22, 2024 by Ryan

Waking to freshly powdered mountain tops surrounding Queenstown I was eager to get out and explore. First things first, laundry, restocking inventory etc. I met a couple of other bike tourers from Germany finishing up breakfast. They had spent a rest day here yesterday but were hitting the road once again. Chores done, me, Eal and our hostel roomie, Adrian from Adelaide decided to hike up Ben Lomond lookout. We quizzed Adrian with Australia questions during the steep 1 hour hike as adrenalin fuelled mountain bikers rattled fearlessly downhill past us. The view of QT and The Remarkables mountain range was stunning. Grey clouds began to sprinkle us with light snow, just after I had been exclaiming how my upcoming birthday would be the first spent in warm climes. These mountains don’t respect my seasons, but I forgive them as they are majestic as they are immovable.

Eal finally had a shave, the first since Boston I think, but left the ‘tash for the night out we were going to have with a bunch of people we friended over pool in the hostel. Entering a bar/club packed to the rafters with music blaring felt very alien, I wasn’t digging the people or their elbow bashing. I’m not anti-social, far from, it was just a situation that I didn’t feel comfortable in somehow. Spending so long out on the road seemed to make the whole situation all the harder to engage with. Me and eal had two drinks before retiring to a quieter place in search of gown, slipper and pipes. A place we had agreed to visit as our old technical directors brother was the bar manager. He treat us to a free nightcap, fun conversation and the first half of the Man Utd – Arsenal game, lunchtime KOs are midnight in NZ.

The second Queenstown rest day, Eal wasn’t feeling to great, possibly coming down with man-flu, so I wandered the town and lake generally feeling a little aimless. With the trip drawing to a close there is so much to organize and prepare for the Australia chapter that I was slightly overwhelmed by it all. Wanting to do everything but failing to do anything I just stared at the mountains and watched the ducks whilst thinking about jobs, locations, accommodation, bank accounts, visas. Today was the first day I shifted from thinking about upcoming riding to accepting it was coming to an end with the reality of pressure I’d submerged myself in, by leaving my comfortable UK life, weighed heavy on my mind. Pick-me-up and or hug needed. Knowing that I have people wishing positive thoughts for me around the world always helps me believe in myself.

Leaving QT we had some backtracking the same way we had came into town before diverting east towards Alexandra. Eal was still feeling pretty lousy with slight fever and general fatigue. We made hard work of a relatively short flat days ride but thankfully had delightful warmshowers hosts waiting at the end of the day for us. Our first in NZ and their first guests of what becomes a busy season with their house situated bang on the central Otago rail trail.

There would be steep climbing to follow that morning, with short, sharp hills reminiscent of riding in the Pennines, tough work. I knew immediately Eal had now gone from feeling under the weather to being down right sick. After the first flurry of climbs I paused to wait for him, he was really struggling and in need of a bed, sleep and lemsip. Unfortunately we didn’t have many options other than Lawrence. The mileage wasn’t too bad but at current speed would take considerable time. He simply had no energy and had to ride in low chain-rings throughout.

Given Eal’s sickness, sleeping bag thermal range and the cold night forecast, camping was off the cards. I scored a small cabin room which is offered at almost every NZ campground. Basic but warm, with beds. Eal pretty much collapsed and tucked himself in the sheets. I rode out to find us food, fish and chips! The smell alone picked Eals spirits up and he managed to eat a fair bit before going to sleep. It was still early, around 8pm but I rolled over and went to sleep myself, exhausted. Both having accepted we are ready to be over with riding and living out of panniers, 6 months is a long time to be without the consistency of house keys, familiar walls, regular showers and a reliably stocked fridge. As with all aspects of bicycle touring, its easily as much mentally demanding as it is physical, which cannot be underestimated.

A glorious spring morning reminded me to cherish this last week in New Zealand. I flew out of the traps to the first town half way through the ride. I sat out an ate food picked up from the market waiting for Eal who was still taking it easy. By the time he caught up he had taken a turn for the worse, throwing up by the roadside and in no fit state to pedal another stroke. We had to get to Dunedin today, it was only another 20 miles but there was little to no public transport. At the information centre the old volunteer lady, Nancy called the only operating bus company that passes through. The one and only service for the day had just passed through but they agreed to turn around and pick us up! I sprinted down to the park bench Eal was resting by to tell him and get to the stop ready. We arrived in Dunedin, located the hostel we had booked and tucked Eal up straight in bed with some medication.

Eal felt better the following day, albeit still pretty weak having not eaten properly for several days. I went for a ride out to the peninsula in hope of seeing a yellow-eyed penguin that our Alexandra warmshowers host informed us about. It was tough riding even with the unloaded bike, followed by a long hike across the sand, sidestepping sleeping sea lions (worth the sweat alone) to reach the wooden hideout situated by nesting areas. Having been warned to be patient I waited for around an hour as I began to lose hope of seeing a penguin.

Finally a little pingu slid ashore to my delight and waddled its way towards the rocks, hopping 2 feet at a time between gaps, very agile! So happy with the experience I had a smile wider than Stockton high street for the rest of the evening. Special little pengbird, thanks. Dunedin is a very scottish town, bagpipes can be heard all round the city. NZ’s architectural captial, it felt very much like a typical British city. This would be the final rest time until we finish for good in Christchurch on my birthday in a few days time!

You Can Only Get Wet Once

Posted on November 11, 2012June 22, 2024 by Ryan

Most hostels have a free food shelf in the fridges for items people are leaving behind. Last night I had eyed up 4 eggs in a carton that I was going to have for breakfast this morning. I went through at 6am to boil some dippies only to find they had been eaten already! Dang nabbit’.

I set out into a drizzly morning with just 15 miles of riding to catch up Eal in Franz Josef. This would still include 3 reasonably steep but short passes that got me warmed up nicely. I arrived by 9am to find Eal having cofffee, he had spent the past few days thinking I was ahead of him rather than behind. So had been racing ahead each day trying to catch me up. We would be spending the afternoon on a guided hike up Fox Glacier. Preparing for the hike we added a few more bicycle layers, the company provides trousers, jacket, boots, cramp-ons. It was a clear, sunny day though so the gear stayed in my pack the entire time.

We had a short 15 minute walk through the valley to get to the terminus of the Glacier. It was an incredible experience stepping onto the ice pack, we hiked up further checking out all its glorious features up close. The few hours we spent whizzed by, I didn’t want to leave. Phenomenal place.

Leaving Fox Glacier the next day conditions were still bright but it wouldn’t last. When the rain came it was cold, heavy and relentless. There is nothing nada, zilch for the 75 mile ride between Fox and Haast. Snack stops were made stood in the pouring rain, water trickling from the front of my helmet. The only restbite from the torrential rain came in a small shelter on a lookout. I spent a few minutes reading the information boards on local sea birds and ate the rest of my cookie pack. Not a good idea to hang around too long whilst cold and wet. I got going sharpish to keep my body temp up.

I kept my body as rigid as possible so not to feel my wet crinkly coat and sopping lyrca pants against my skin more than I had to. On downhills the rain felt like I was staring at a cold shower jet, with no way of dry wiping my face, I just blinked endlessly. Finally making it to Haast at our accommodation for the evening which is best described as a converted community centre. Good stock of fire wood though, all socks, shoes and cyclewear laid out to dry. I was just relieved the 8 hours riding in rain was over. Definitely taken to a new place mentally today, I wouldn’t call it real adversity but I know I can cope spending all day in those conditions. Although we aren’t even attempting to camp with the current condition of our tents and clothes. Good job New Zealand is geared towards backpackers.

Apparently the weather hadn’t read my script for this morning. The rain from yesterday was still coming down, puddles were now lakes. Determined to keep dry feet today I employed a shopping bag technique over my socks. It was quite funny knowing we had spent all evening dry out our things only for them to get soaking wet within seconds of riding again.

There would be absolutely nothing again today between start and end point. The initial riding was traversing up river but nothing too taxing. There was one small shelter before we crossed the river at the scarily named ‘Gates of Haast’ where I ducked out the rain for a few seconds to devour a few bananas. From here the climbing began, it was super steep and winding. Rarely on this trip have I had to stand up for entire climbs. Thankfully it levelled out nicely towards the top of the pass and in total wasn’t too long. I stopped briefly to talk with some trampers about bicycle touring. Wary of the fact I was wet and cold with a downhill to follow I got going again.

The rain had finally stopped for the last 10 miles to Makarora which consists of a few farms and a small holiday village where we would be staying. The buildings were all triangular and quirky. I scored a bed in one of the dorms and was already showered, sat sipping Earl Grey by the time Eal turned up looking as I had, shivering, bewildered, spent. We got the fire going without any kindling, score! Lucky for us there would be nobody else arriving that evening so we had the dorm block to ourself. Bazinga!

The cycling gods finally showed mercy on us for the ride to Queenstown. Clear skies and strong, gusty tailwinds. The first 40 miles to Wanaka were probably the easiest I have experienced as the winds urged us over hills and across straights at speed. Wanaka was a beautiful outdoors type town right on the lake. Eal caught up with me whilst I was having lunch then we set out into the afternoon, heading over the crown range as the temperature soared.

The landscape, heat and narrow road up the crown range reminded me of riding along the Columbia river gorge. The view distance at the top stretched out for miles, you could see Queenstown low in the valley by the lake. The descent was made terrifying by the low guard rails on the cliff side. The immense winds and narrow hairpin turns meant I was constantly gravitating towards the edge.

6 miles from Queenstown we jumped on an off road bike path that would take us into town, it was rideable and gave us a break from the cars of highway 6. This place is the main south island destination for backpackers, hikers, thrill seekers, pub crawlers etc. Everybody we have met talks about going to or having been to Queenstown. Its suited in the middle of several epic mountain ranges, we have a few days schedule to see what all the hype is about.

The Simple Life

Posted on October 31, 2012June 22, 2024 by Ryan

There was supposed to be some heavy rain heading our way during the morning so when I woke to dry conditions outside I thought it best to pack away quickly and hit the road. It started to pour just a few miles in, my rain coat is not so waterproof these days after accidentally putting it on a warm colours wash, messing up the material. I was soon sopping wet head to socks with no option but to continue riding. My hands were cold and cramping from clutching my wet bars. I found Eal paused in the road by a stop sign, the heavy rain had dislodged some big rocks causing a landslide which embedded them in the road. The cleanup was underway with a helicopter scooping water up from the river and dropping it down on the slide to push down any more loose sections, mud, rain, wind and traffic jams along highway 6.

After making it through we continued towards the NZ west coast. Towns weren’t forthcoming so another roadside picnic with P+J sangas had to suffice. By now the rain had pushed over and the sun was shining bright, when I arrived at the town of Charleston there was no sign of a store or Eal. I took to the recreation area on the beach to dry out my layers in the sudden heat.

The ride along the ocean reminded me of the US pacific coast, the roads hair-pinned inland over bluffs in the same manner as they did on highway 1, the rock stacks stood off in the sea, my brain was continually telling me to go on the right side of the road. Slightly confusing but hearing some kiwi accents re-calibrated my geo-location.

The local attraction in punakaiki where we spent the night is the ‘pancake rocks and blow holes’ I only managed one picture of the rocks before my camera battery died so see the following youtube video. Pretty incredible and unlike anything I’ve seen before!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ja1mIXP4rSY

From there it was a short 30 mile day to Greymouth where we intended on taking the Monteiths brewery tour on the afternoon. In town we located the Neptunes Backpackers, another super friendly family run place like in Turangi. We met Ben from Vancouver again who was staying there for 5 days as they offer free accommodation if you work a while, he has a few weeks to get to Queenstown so its perfect for him. We restocked on road supplies from the supermarket then enjoyed some wonderful sipping time at Monteiths. Wasting their time with the seasonal Apricot Wheat though, when asked what beer they like, each person on the tour responded ‘strong ipa’ Monteiths don’t do one, maybe they will take note.

When I strolled down to the kitchen for the free guest breakfast the next morning I could see the weather outside looked atrocious. I checked the forecast and it was scheduled to be heavy rain all day with winds of 25mph. Eal had arranged yesterday to have some tyres delivered to a bike shop in town. We couldn’t be sure they would arrive before 12 noon anyway so made the decision to remain at Neptunes another day.

I switched the tyres around on my bike, did some laundry and we played on the free pool table in the afternoon. Eal had destroyed me 7-1 in Wellington so I was happy to restore some pride this time with a 3-1 best of 5 win. The sideways rain didn’t let up once the entire time as I repeated over and over ‘So glad I’m not riding in this!’. Its not so much the getting wet its the riding with a burrowed head and squinting eyes. You miss all the scenery and on the narrow NZ roads it can be incredibly dangerous as the spray kicked up from the trucks when they pass prevents the drivers behind from even seeing you hugging the white line.

We said our goodbyes to the Neptunes owner and hit the coast road again on another beautiful spring day. I stopped to talk with a couple of German tourers heading north, we have started seeing a few more cyclists recently as the finer weather approaches, I guess the South island is possibly a more popular destination too. Halfway through the day I stopped for lunch in Hotikika. Me and Eal had agreed on a primitive camp area for the night just a few km south of Ross so I decided to spend a few hours chilling out so not to arrive to early.

Heading out again at 4pm with the intention of arriving at 6pm I met a local cyclist, he had a very unique prosthetic left leg with cleat mechanism for his road bike. He informed me that the camp area I was shooting for was much further south than I thought (based on what google maps had told me), Eal had the map so I couldn’t verify where it was marked on the paper copy which I never actually saw for myself this morning. Lake Ianthe would actually be another 25km past Ross. I saw the cyclist again in town. Without me saying a word he said “I can’t offer you a place to stay because I’ve had to many people thieving off me over the years.” Gee-thanks! I verified how far Ianthe was with the store owner. If I set off now I would arrive in darkness, that’s assuming the terrain wasn’t too bad and I didn’t get a flat or worse. I resolved to make up the mileage in the morning and located an odd cabin deal to sleep in for the night.

Very basic and dusty but it will suffice. The rustic setting pushed me towards pen and paper to finish some postcards I had still failed to send 2 weeks after picking them up, better late than never! This would be the first night since May 27th me and Eal had not spent in the same place.

The early alarm I had set to catch Eal up didn’t wake me up for some reason. My cabin was a little chilly during the night. When I did eventually wake at 7am I got trucking quick sharp, amazing early morning light, super still and quiet. The day began with glorious scenery, views of Mount Cook in the distance, pristine lakes, snow capped ranges.

The views continued to wow me into early afternoon, at this point I was debating in my head whether this could possibly be the best bike ride of my life. I concluded it was simply special and precious in its own way just like many other days riding this trip. A couple from Brisbane, where I’m heading to in Oz, were stood on the bend of a river taking pictures and offered to take mine in return for me snapping one of them. Afterwards I managed to stab my right calf on the big chainring turning my bike around. I looked for a way down to cleanse it in the water but it was inaccessible so my bottled water had to suffice, nothing could spoil my mood today though. So happy with life, I felt euphoric. The couple beeped and waved as they passed, if ever I feel like a smile on the road I will throw a wave out towards an oncoming driver. Which is almost always returned, helps to feel less alone some days out on the road and reminds me that there are real people inside those metal boxes zipping by me.

Arriving in Franz Josef I still needed to locate Eal, I checked in at each campground and backpackers with no luck. I had arrived in good time so he must have been here much earlier. It crossed my mind he may have continued to Fox Glacier. Either way we both knew we would be in Fox Glacier tomorrow afternoon after both deciding our one ‘kiwi’ experience splash-out would be a glacier hike. I checked rates at backpackers and found a great deal at the YHA for cyclists as part of there carbon footprint scheme. I failed to mention my 2 long haul flights getting to this point.

I shared a big dorm room with just one other guy from Hong Kong. We had some communication issues but he was so enthusiastic and friendly, continuing to try asking questions and understand my responses. He had just been on the ice breaker ship down to Antarctica for $3000 and had other touring cyclists on board with him! After telling him about my ride he nicknamed me ‘Ironman’. Doesn’t quite work somehow when I’m curled up on my bed like a chesire cat under the quilt with woolly socks on to stay toasty. Meow.

First Impressions Of South Island

Posted on October 27, 2012June 22, 2024 by Ryan

Getting on the Ferry at Wellington in the afternoon we were joined by about 20 guys all riding super nice road bikes on a charity tour and one other fellow loaded tourer from Vancouver. The journey took just over 2 hours, Eal didn’t bring his sea legs with him and felt a little nauseous, it did get quite choppy. Still, up on top deck the view of the Marlbrough sounds made for a staggeringly beautiful entrance to the south island and our destination for the evening, Picton. We located a campground just 2 miles from the terminal, our tents had been packed away wet the whole time in Wellington so now they smelt like a damp football sock. Breathe through your mouth time. Excited for the south island. Our second ferry ride of the trip done, just one more plane to catch now from Christchurch to Brisbane.

The next morning was a public holiday in NZ, labor day. We had been advised to checkout Renwick and the surrounding wineries that are linked with trails especially for bikes, it was also home to the MOA beer brewery. Only 25 miles from Picton but seemed too good to miss so we covered the ground early and stopped for lunch at the 3 bears cafe to line our stomachs. Watson’s Backpackers in town hooked us up with a sweet deal to camp in the garden and use all the kitchen, shower facilities. Bags unloaded we swiftly headed back out towards the cellar doors that we had passed coming into town on what was a perfect sunny spring afternoon.

We stopped by a few tasting rooms, a couple of regular culture vultures decked in lycra. Hmmm. This is white wine and bubbles territory, mostly delightful and unique. Mid-way through vineyard hopping we hit the MOA brewery, 3/5 were good drops including one that I couldn’t resist buying a bottle of for the road tomorrow. The last vineyard was right in town, Gibson Bridge. It was the smallest in the area, a family ran place. Julie gave us by far the most entertaining and engaging chat over the tasting. Her husband, Howard, came out to talk with us about our trip for a while past closing time then pulled out some free wine for us to take away, thanks guys!

After failing to find a suitable ATM in Picton or Renwick we were both low on cash, unfortunately towns for the next few days looked like being few and far apart with extremely limited services. Stocking up at the supermarket before riding I made sure I had enough meals and snacks for three days. I find this difficult on a bike, its hard to resist tomorrow’s chocolate bar when you have already devoured today’s ration by 10am. Gone are the days I could rely on Flavia for a swedish fish treat in the afternoons and Eal eats all 3 days worth before he’s even started riding! ‘When they’re gone they’re gone’ as my mum used to say with the sweets.

There was literally nothing leaving Renwick except for stunning scenery. Rest stops were made by the roadside sitting on grass. At one point Eal caught up with me as I was perched by a fence having lunch in the sun. By the time we got to riding again it started to sleet! The icey showers coming straight off the surrounding mountains. The dramatic change in weather and temperature had us pulling on all kinds of layers to stay warm. We were both attacked by the most aggressive magpie yet, this one had swooped at eal from the front and clattered his helmet from behind! Strong headwinds blasted us from the west, the only positive being that it pushed all the nasty weather over our heads and the blue skies prevailed once again.

A steep climb took us past ski field signs to St Arnaud that brought us out at the base of the stunning Lake Rotoiti, in amongst the mountains. It would be a fairly primitive camp, with bench and small shelter for us to sit out the cold, despite one side being open to the elements. A frosty night ahead had Eal concerned. My sleeping bag is rated extreme for -11C his is down to 1C. Ducks joined in with dinner which was then washed down with the superb MOA Five Hops I had carried with me from yesterday.

I woke up cold several times in the night with my nose, the only exposed body part, freezing cold. I was happy to get a response from Eal to my shout at 8am in the morning to know he hadn’t frozen solid. Our feet were like ice blocks, there was a tiny gas station in St Arnaud and that was it, we stopped in there to thaw out for half an hour before heading out. It remained chilly throughout the day, I sported my extra layer of fleece gloves most the time.

Destination for the evening was another primitive campspot called Lyell just off highway 6, down deep in the Buller river gorge which we would be riding all day. So we were thankful to find the town of Murchison, the first real settlement since Renwick, at least had a small supermarket to restock with some treats before continuing towards the NZ outback. Two days without shower and tomorrow I will add some more sweat to that just for good measure. The cold makes it tricky to layer correctly. The last thing you want to do in these temps is start sweating under layers because then if you stop and the wind picks up you will get the worst of chills. Thankfully it was milder than last night, so I was able to save my hoody from coming into contact with my rancid bike attire.

Feeling Wellington

Posted on October 22, 2012June 22, 2024 by Ryan

Ian didn’t make it easy for us to leave the backpackers lodge in Turangi, offering us a drive up the mountain and back. We had to hit the road though and get some mileage under our belt if we were going to make our intended campspot for the evening. Things didn’t start well, I noticed my rear wheel could do with some air so started pumping only to rip the handle out, slicing my finger in the process. Quite the gusher, I seem to always give myself these little nicks, lucky Eal has plasters.

The road we stuck to all day would take us through Tongariro national park, where there had been snow fall as recently as yesterday. The aptly named Desert Road was baron, in stark contrast to our recent riding through lush green farmland. Clouds were menacing, the mountains which flanked us intimidating, therefore it was all the more fitting when we learned the area played backdrop to most of the Mordor scenes from Lord of the rings, just without the fire and lava, although this range does contain two active volcanoes!

Reaching the top of the Desert Road pass and breezing down the opposite side, the evening ended amongst the familar and safe green hills where we located camping. The campgrounds of New Zealand must be commended for their facilities. I am already taking for granted that every place has a full kitchen, tv lounge, laundry and showers. If you remember from earlier in the blog how basic European campgrounds were in comparison and the only improvement in the US was the guarantee of a picnic bench and fire pit.

Being a passionate Newcastle United fan, I have enjoyed the sight of the Australian Magpie in New Zealand. That was until I discovered they can be incredibly aggressive towards cyclists during breeding season! Again we spent the morning being swooped on from above by the wise guys who clearly thought I was some sort of competition in my black and white bike jersey. They must attack the odd car too because many lie dead by the roadside, chill out lads!

Instead of sticking to highway 1 which was possibly flatter, if a little longer in distance, we came off it to take the quiet 57. It would involve some super steep hills but the lookout points over the surrounding shires were worth it. As we descended towards the town of Feilding a women pulled over in an old white 3 door and offered us a place to stay for the evening. It was a nice offer, she had cycle toured many moons ago in the south island, but it would make for an early stop on what was already a short day. We thanked her anyway, if we hadn’t just taken the time off in Turangi we may have taken the offer. You make decisions like this daily on tour, today we just felt like riding further.

Arriving in the town of Waikanakakia-something-beach, the road signs pointed towards camping, our maps had camping icons indicated but such a place that offered us a place to pitch was not forthcoming. After asking a few locals, the only place in town appeared to be called El Rancho. On arrival the office was unattended, the intercom put us in touch with somebody who told us we couldn’t tent camp despite the fact they had an empty motorcamp patch. After spending a good hour cycling around the towns near by we still had no joy finding accommodation.

It was getting late now but we trucked onto towards Parapurapapa-something-beach (sorry I can’t remember the full town names exactly without maps to hand, they are incredibly long and unpronounceable for a Teessider.) with light fading and rain and wind getting stronger (like gale force sideways rain stronger) we started to panic a little thinking this could be the first night all trip we had to unintentionally wild camp. A guy walking his dog ended up pointing us in the direction of the main street in town that had a YHA backpackers lodge, poyfect! Smarting from our luck we enjoyed a cosy night in the warmth as the elements battered the building situated right on the beach front.

After the storm had passed over during the night we were presented with a glorious bright morning outside the hostel. Breakfast in town over maps made it clear getting to Wellington, the New Zealand capital, would be tricky by bicycle as it becomes a tad inaccessible once the roads bottle neck around the bay. Yesterday evening I had noticed the passenger train-line begin, with small stations at each town. So we decided to save ourself a headache, avoiding several hours of stop start riding and map checking, we would ride down to a station then take the train for the last stretch into the urban area, hopping off conveniently at Wellington central. Jobs a good ‘un.

The first evening spent in Wellington, we quickly decided to book another night on top of the day we had planned to take here anyway. Head and shoulders above Auckland, its a great city. Steeped in creativity, character and scenery, also classed as New Zealand’s Craft Brew centre it was a hugely enjoyable few days. We took in the Te Papa Museum, botanical gardens, watched live music, drank incredi-brews and just generally appreciated the gentle, unique, happy vibe Wellington was giving us. From here we will be taking the Ferry across the Cook Strait (Whoop James Cook!) to the south island. The north has been a great kiwi introduction but as anybody who has researched or done a trip to NZ will know, everybody spends their time in the south island, so greatly anticipating what else is waiting for us. P.s Thanks to Laura Jaime Hanson for the North Island visitor guide!

{RA}

Category: Bike