An Editor’s Apologetic Note, August 2025

I got to know Eardley because his anthropological fieldwork and dissertation in Uva in Sri Lanka came to m attention way back, maybe in the 1980s when I was teaching in Adelaide. I think we met once or twice in Sydney. That is how Eardley’s subsequent “adventure” … presented below … came into my files.

…. and THEN got swallowed up somewhere.  But fortune has favoured the arduous and I can tell the world WHAT no other migrant Sri Lankan Aussie has done …... A BUGGER OF A JOURNEY

Eardley Lieversz

Hugging the COAST. Cycling from Melbourne to Port Augusta

CONTENTS

Contents                                                                                       1

I       The end of hubris                                                                                       2

II     Chameleon conditions                                                                                       2

III   A wet take off                                                                                       3

IV    The crawl to Bimbi                                                                                       3

V     No such thing as an easy ride                                                                                       4

VI    The art of camping                                                                                     4-5

VII  Beautiful country                                                                                     5–6

VIII Born in a small town                                                                                       6

IX    Wine country                                                                                     6-7

X     Rural gourmet delights                                                                                     7-8

XI    Taking in more of the country                                                                                       9

XII  The zen of cycling                                                                                       9

XIII Why cycle?                                                                                     9-10

GUIDES AND SOURCE MATERIAL                                                                                     11

BIKE SPECIFICATIONS                                                                                   12-13

LIST OF PICTURES                                                                                     13

GUIDE TO ARRANGING POSSESSIONS                                                                                     14

PLANNED VIC ITINERARY 2003                                                                                   15-16

PLANNED SA ITINERARY 2003                                                                                     17

LOGISTICAL DETAILS 2003 VIC                                                                                   18-19

LOGISTICAL DETAILS 2003 SA                                                                                   19-20

The end of hubris

It was a sign of our growing confidence as cyclists that we covered Victoria’s and South Australia’s premier long distance cycling routes in one trip.  After completing the Victorian coastal tour we crossed into South Australia and took in her Limestone coast, and two wine producing valleys, approximately 1,500 kilometres in all.

After two trips across the Snowy Mountains, one of which took us over the Victorian Alps, we didn’t envisage any undue problems on this trip, which had far fewer hills.  We felt that we had experienced all the adversity associated with self-supported cycling trips.  My main worry was that I wouldn’t have anything new to write about.  However, we didn’t factor in head winds and incessant rain.  For instance, the 92 kilometres of road from Kingston to Salt Creek was flat all the way, but the headwinds reduced my speed to 14 kph.  In truth, the 2003 trip to Port Augusta was more demanding th either of my two previous trips, despite being carefully planned and deliberately structured for a leisurely ride.

II       Chameleon conditions

On our fifteenth cycling day we cycled from Wellington to Mt. Pleasant.  The daily weather was on the mend and we expected an easy day.  However, the day symbolised the trip like no other.  The sun came out all the way to Murray-Bridge, and then to Palmer.  The road was easy by any standards.  However, severe headwinds had us at times struggling to simply balance the cycle.  Then we cycled 6 kilometres of hill, which proved to be as steep as anything confronted in the Snowy Mountains, not counting the headwinds which had no respect for terrain.  I had hardly begun to enjoy the subsequent descent when the rain came down.  I sought shelter in Tungkillo and after a break in the weather continued towards Mt. Pleasant, confident that the wet was behind me.  If I hadn’t missed the short cut I might have escaped the downpour, which continued late into the night without respite.

We spent the night in a stockyard, our tent pegs barely penetrating the gravel floor.  Trying to set up camp, cook our meal and cope with a freezing body in almost total darkness was a real challenge.  I told myself that that this trip was never meant to contain moments of such abject misery.  I had a restless night warding off the suspicion that every light or sound from a motor was a harbinger of being asked to vacate our site or being robbed by local criminals.  Because I arrived in the pouring rain and fading light, my impression of Mt. Pleasant showground was that of a dump inhabited by all manner of villains.  However, I woke up to a perfectly clear day, and the comforting sight of hordes of normal-looking cyclists assembling to commence an organised ride.  The addition of a group of formally attired equestrian types taking their horses through their paces finally dissipated my blues of the night before.

Rain and cold accompanied us on the 36 kilometers from Port Fairy to Tindurra.  At Tindurra we had a snack for lunch under a couple of fir trees while sidestepping the rain dripping through the branches.  It was the sort of weather which activated numerous calls of nature.  I envied the local across the road, who, despite living in a ramshackle abode, had shelter and possibly interior heating.  Yet as soon as we left for Heywood, the rain cleared and the sun came out.  The road was flat and we covered 41 kilometres in 80 minutes traveling through handsome farm country dotted with lovely homesteads.  The recent wet gave the landscape a glow and sparkle, and I reveled in the solitude, scenery and the virtual absence of traffic.  The deep puddles were not a problem despite the lack of a front mudguard.

III           A wet take off

Fifteen days earlier we had left Mt. Eliza amidst a drizzle which turned into a downpour.  Visibility was virtually nil and places to shelter were at a premium.  I cycled hard simply to keep warm, and on the freeway I was reaching speeds of 30 kph.  By the time I reached Sorrento, three and a half hours and 55 ks later, the rain had ceased but I was shaking all over.  Although it took another 14 days for such showers to be revisited, the cold accompanied us for most of the trip.  Brief showers alternating with equally brief sunny breaks were an improvement over thunderstorms.  I guess I used the first day as a yardstick, so less persistent rain was considered a blessing.  We were happy if we started the day in good weather, and since leaving Mount Eliza, we had only been greeted by rain at the commencement of the day’s journey, at Rendelsham and Policeman’s Point.  It wasn’t that our trip was wrongly scheduled.  On the contrary, a person in South Australia told us that at the same time in the previous year there had been a heat wave.

IV

The crawl to Bimbi

My definition of a horror day is one on which I run the risk of not making it to my proposed destination, as has happened twice before during my first trip through the Snowies (Tharwa to Adaminaby to Khancoban).  I had made it a point to prevent recurrences of such situations through careful planning.  Although I couldn’t control the weather, I could at least control the destination and the time of arrival.  However, on the third day I had a serious case of déjà vu as I seriously contemplated pitching my tent by the side of the road.

At Apollo Bay Malcolm’s suggested we cycle 30 ks to the Bimbi camp which was close to the Otway lighthouse we planned to visit the next morning.  Although this was sound strategy, I agreed only reluctantly because Apollo Bay seemed a pleasant spot to spend the night.

We left Apollo Bay at 4.05 pm and by 6 pm had only covered 13 ks.  At this speed we would be lucky to reach Bimbi by 8 pm.  Not only was the entry into Otway Park steeper than expected, rain and head winds sapped our enthusiasm.  The damp and the limited light due to the forest enclosure created a palpable sense of gloom and doom.  Malcolm admitted that he had been looking at Bed & Breakfasts on the way but had found no vacancies.  By this stage we had resigned ourselves to a night by the roadside.  However, our spirits were soon lifted by an unexpected drop in the road.  Not since traveling to Khancoban from Cabramurra had I been so grateful for a continuous descent.

Malcolm sped ahead and on reaching the camping ground found the office closed.  The most obvious entrance led to a horse pasture and he began to wonder whether camping facilities were available.  When I arrived the same thoughts went through my mind and I feared that I had misread his instructions.  In addition to the real possibility of camping ad hoc I worried about not being able to contact Malcolm the next morning.  I cycled in an unlikely direction searching for someone who might have spotted another cyclist and came upon campervans.  Before I could stop to make inquiries I spotted Malcolm pitching his tent in the distance.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

V

No such thing as an easy ride

If we learnt anything it was that there is no such thing as an easy road when cycling with a load.  Even minor ascents can be a major task if combined with a headwind.  Even sun, which is usually a welcome relief, can become a burden.  The climatic elements that make for a good day’s cycling may be a positive or negative, depending on other factors they interact with, including the time of day.  For instance, the road between Clare and Guldare was hilly for most of the distance.  There was a huge hill out of Yacca on the way to Guldare, which we had to tackle on an empty stomach at noon when the sun was at its worst.  At times the headwinds were welcome because they cooled us.  It’s all in the mix.  For instance, the moderate headwind between Meningie and Wellington wasn’t enough to slow us on a flat road.  In general however, moderate heat and moderate ascents are preferable to a strong headwind.  In another instance, on the way to Torquay, the headwind was so strong it even slowed our descents.  When one is unable to predict the conditions with any degree of certainty, it becomes necessary to factor in at least two rest days into the itinerary.  This will be a must on future trips.

VI The art of camping

As befits true adventurers, on our third cycling trip we spent a lot more nights under tents.  Only the cold weather made us rely on motel accommodation for half the trip.

During our first two camping days we were on a sharp learning curve.  After a wet start to the trip the last thing we needed was a bad night at Barwon Heads.  Unfortunately, we spent the night keeping count of the mosquitoes killed on top of the startling discovery that my cable lock had fallen off.  To add to my woe the zipper on my brand new sleeping bag came undone and consequently for the rest of the trip I struggled inside a bag that didn’t close in on me.  At Bimbi we struggled to cook our dehydrated food under torch light and windy conditions.  On both occasions I was unsettled by my inability to be organised and sort things in a pragmatic manner.  I was beginning to rapidly turn off the idea of camping.  It is testimony to the quality of the camps in Gladstone and Melrose, both in South Australia, and the improvement in weather, that by the end of the trip I had come to terms with camping.

We soon established a few golden rules for camping, which are as follows:

• If you cannot arrive early at a camp site spend the night in a cabin,
• If you cannot keep an eye on the cycles while you are eating, try and eat before arriving at the camp,
• If you have to leave the camp for a meal, pitch the tents first and cycle to the eating place,
• In order to keep mosquitoes at bay, pitch the tent before twilight and enter into it after darkness has set,
• Forgo supper if you have to cook in the dark and eat a slab of chocolate instead, and
• Take along a large pillow even if it cannot be compressed.

At Peterborough I wheeled my cycle to the amenities block and, after showering, arranged my personal items under light before wheeling my cycle back to my tent.  In this way I was able to avoid the fiasco at Barwon Heads where I had to disentangle dirty clothes from clean ones without the aid of a bench.  In my rush I left items behind in the toilet, and then had to try to organise my possessions into my panniers in pitch dark.

We found that the quality of the campsite influences our comfort as much as the things we can control.  For instance, Peterborough has a large flood light which allowed me to reduce the chaos around me and have a late night.  The compactness of the site, the proximity to benches and toilets, covered cooking and recreational areas, all night lighting and good security, are what constitutes a good camp site.  In this regard Gladstone and Melrose receive many brownie points.  We felt confident enough to leave our unlocked cycles and gear at these places while we had supper at nearby hotels.  (At Melrose the only intruders were kangaroos, most welcome.)  The toilets at Wellington were the neatest and cleanest, followed closely by Gladstone, and we could understand why access was only by key at these places.

VII              Beautiful Country

Despite the inclement weather the Great Ocean Road was a magnificent sight.  Despite, or because of, the choppy weather and overcast skies, I experienced the haunting beauty of rainbows – one of the few spin offs from bad weather.  Because of the winding nature of the Ocean Road, one can see far ahead and enjoy the sensation of closing in on scenes which commence as a blur to the naked eye.  We could see what we were cycling into as the horizon was shrouded in the grey of cloud and rain.  Likewise, as the rain tumbled down, relief could be sighted in the distance, in the form of sunlit contours.

While the Snowy Mountains are grand in themselves, you have to leave the road to enjoy the fauna and flora.  The most evocative scenes prevailed on the Victorian Alps, particularly the towns and landscapes between Mount Hotham and Sale.  While the towns along the Great Ocean Road have long lost whatever rustic charm they may have had due to commercialisation, joy is still to be had in the sheer grandeur of marine and nautical vistas.  There is something indescribably beautiful about lighthouses, jetties, fishing boats, off shore rock outcrops, the waves hitting the shore, sea gulls hovering above, the smell of the sea, the wild grass on either side of the road, and a road (particularly between Angelsea and Apollo Bay) that keeps taking you to sea level and out again.  In essence, the interaction between seascape and landscape is unique.

South Australian roads didn’t offer us the same marine scenes on a regular basis.  However, we were never far from inland lakes, particularly on the Limestone coast.  The water was of a more benign nature as typified by causeways with slight overflows between Policeman’s Point and Meningie.  Apart from Beachport we didn’t get to walk around lighthouses and walk on coral, but we appreciated the many small towns, of which Robe was the one I’d most like to revisit.

From the moment we headed north from Port Fairy the landscape diversified, and in addition to the water views we revisited after crossing into South Australia, we cycled through farming and wine country, dairy farms and timber plantations.  Although we had the Ocean Road very much to ourselves, the South Australian roads were relatively quieter and less populated, and we enjoyed that sense of remoteness that makes cycling such a soulful experience.  The road from Kingston to Salt Creek truly evoked the “sounds of silence”.

We ended our trip in Port Augusta, whose climate is in stark contrast to the Victoria and South Australia we had traversed.  The dry and hot conditions we experienced on the last day made us feel that we were in another country.  Standing under the bridge at the head of the Spencer Gulf I felt the land beyond to be a different country, akin to the “Indian country” of Wild West yore.  I realised that traversing the Nullarbor would require me to draw upon all of my inner strengths.  I knew then that it would be best to have the Nullarbor behind me as quickly as possible, by cycling from Perth to Sydney rather than in the opposite direction.

VIII        Born in a small town

“Educated in a small town, taught the fear of Jesus in a small town, used to daydream in that small town, another boring romantic that’s me” sang John Mellencamp in 1985.  Although we passed many small towns and stayed the night at some of them, it was at Rendelsham that we stayed for the first time in a home, guests of Malcolm’s uncle, Rex Galwey.  Rendelsham is smaller than most small towns.  It has two churches, a primary school, a community hall, a cemetery and not much else.  The house we stayed in embodied the aspirations and financial limitations of the working class community of Rendelsham.  While none of the fixtures were overly modern, the furniture and manchester reflected genteel taste and an aspirational aesthetic.  The owner built the house himself to accommodate his wife and three daughters, none of whom are around anymore.  His son, who remained in the area continuing the tradition of hard working farming life, passed away from cancer at a relatively young age.  Parts of the property were divested off a while ago and the garden is a bit run down, as is to be expected given Rex Galwey’s advanced age.

As we cycled to the town centre the next morning, where Malcolm’s paternal grandfather’s house still stands, we passed three very affluent looking houses, one of which was a veritable mansion.  As the standard of living increases, locals inevitably make improvements to their ancestral land, making them no different to upwardly mobile city folk.

Rex Galwey is as close as you will come to the rural working class.  He worked as a builder before the apprentice system was established, and also farmed cattle.  He told us of how, as a child he used to cycle to Millicent to view movies and return in the pitch dark on a dirt track.  A lot of things which were common place activities to people born between the wars, would not be even be contemplated today, so spoilt for comfort are modern day folks.

Our visit to Rendelshem cemetery in the thickening rain was also a first.  Malcolm located the final resting places of many of his ancestors.  We just managed to photograph the signpost to Galwey Street before the rain forced us into a shelter.  After a two hour wait we headed north and made a detour to Southend, the fishing town whose harshness is well documented in Red Desert Sky, John Lomax’s biography of the Chambers family of country music fame.  On that cold and windy day we felt what it must be like to be a professional fisherman.  In these two days we felt rural life more than on any other cycling day.

IX

Wine country

After South Australia’s wine country was included in our itinerary we had visions of repeating our epicurean experience at Milawa in 2001.  However, unless cyclists have a hugely flexible schedule, good timing is fortuitous.  In 2001 we were lucky that we arrived at Milawa in time for a stylish lunch and wine.  More importantly, not only is Milawa a village, it is also the hub of the local wine industry.  Hence, we had time to check in, shower, and walk across to the epicurean centre.

In larger wine growing areas the main town is not necessarily the place to experience the local viticulture.  Nuriootpa, the main town in the Barossa is pedestrian and not reflective of the industry that supports it.  Hence, after checking in we cycled to Tanunda for a brief visit.  In retrospect we should have stayed at Angaston where we had a German derived gourmet sandwich for lunch, and which was littered with many pastry and cake shops, and craft stores.  Often the journey is more important that arriving.  The trip from Mt. Pleasant to Nurioopta was better than the evening which we spent washing clothes and repairing Malcolm’s puncture.  We stopped at Springton and Eden valley on the way to Angaston and slowed down to savour atypical South Australian wine country landscapes (quaint Lutheran churches, vineyards, tree lined roads, pools, multi-purpose stores, rustic buildings, galleries etc).

My grouse against Nurioopta also extends to Clare.  Although we treated ourselves to Clare trout and a bottle of Riesling at the Chaff Mill Restaurant, we would have been better off spending the night at the much vaunted camp situated at the edge of the Riesling trail and attending a restaurant in the vicinity.  With prior knowledge and no deadline to meet, we could have even spent the night at Auburn.  The whole of the next day could then have been spent on the Riesling trail stopping at all of the renowned cellars and restaurants, with enough time for the effects of wine to wear off and not impede our cycling ability.

Not unlike the Barossa Valley, the journey to the heart of the Clare valley was the most memorable.  Our first stop after leaving Nuriootpa was Kapunda, one of many pleasant towns on the way to Clare.  The 21 kilometres to Kapunda was in brilliant weather.  This revived our spirits and we reveled in the rustic beauty around us.  We collected a local map from the Kapunda visitor centre and guided ourselves through a back road, which took us through Marrabel and Saddleworth, where we had lunch.  Although there were many ascents during this stretch (32 kilometres) the descents generated enough momentum for this purpose.  There were not many vineyards to be seen, mainly wheat crops on tidy land.  The many abandoned buildings inevitably had me speculating on the causes of social change and reconstructing what the buildings may have embodied in better times.  And unbeknown to us at the time, the road bisected the Mawson and Heyson Trails.

The only education I received in wine was at the home of Dr. Prakash Nayagam at Mt. Eliza where we stayed for two nights after cycling about 50 kilometres from Melbourne.  His wine cellar, in which bottles are neatly arranged with the prescribed dates for their consumption systematically tagged, attests to the fact that Prakash is a genuine student of wine culture.  The Pinot Civigio (Redhill Estate) he served us had the stamp of recommendation from an aficionado.

X

Rural gourmet delights

I have become a huge fan of a Victorian big breakfast which was served to us at the Block Arcade, Melbourne, and throughout our journey through the coastal area of the State.  I used to make it a point to cycle about 20 kilometres from where I was staying to work up the appetite to absorb the fare.  The key feature are the two large pieces of oval shaped Italian bread.  The best breakfasts of this nature were had at the Bees Knees Café, Torquay, and Rebecca’s, Port Fairy.

I initially complained about the prices of meals in rural areas until I saw the quantity served, in both Victoria and South Australia.  In addition, meals are beautifully served.  I was very impressed by the shape of the ice cream with a strawberry strategically sticking out at Schomberg Inn, Peterborough.  For the first time I began to look forward to eating out as would the writer of a good food guide.  And although virtually a teetotaler, the romance of travel tempted me into trying out unfamiliar beers (Stirling at Heywood Hotel and Hoffbrau Munchen at Mt. Gambier Hotel).  Food and drink now became as much an indicator of rural life for me as buildings and people had always been.

There are two categories of eating places, those where we had our big evening meal, and the little places where we had lunch, snacks and replenished our stocks of water.  We measured these establishments in terms of settings, service and views, as much as the food.  However, our measures simply reflect the choices we made, and the mood we were in, and so we may have missed many interesting eating places right under our noses.  From memory, the best of the first category were at Schomberg Inn (Peterborough), Otway Junction Bistro (Lavers Hill), Heywood Hotel (Heywood), Mt. Gambier Hotel (Mt. Gambier), Beachport Hotel (Beachport), Royal Mail Hotel (Kingston), Wellington and North Star Inn Hotel (Melrose).  Of the latter category, those which come to mind are Café 67 on Hesse (Queenscliff), Ivy’s (Apollo Bay), McDuff Bakehouse (Laver’s Hill), Princetown General Store, Brockey’s on Liebig (Warrananbool), Dartmoor Springs, OK Pie Shop (Mt. Gambier), Tantanoola Tiger Hotel (Tantanoola), a pie shop in Robe, Shell Coorong Roadhouse, Steamer’s Café (Murray Bridge), Angaston Gourmet Foods (Angaston), Images Coffee House and Gallery (Tanuda), Kapunda Bakery, Chloe’s (Clare), Post Agent and General Store (Guldare), Devonshire Tea & Crafts (housed in the Laura Standard Printing House building) (Laura), Wheatley’s Old Bakery (Wirrabarra) and a takeaway at Wilmington.

The only place we won’t be revisiting is the Wye River store and café.  At 11 am the proprietor had to wake up his wife to prepare me an egg and bacon roll, which she did with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.  I got the feeling that we had intruded on their lifestyle and privacy.  Compared to them the proprietor of the Nullaware restaurant at least gave the preparation of a milkshake his best shot, although he was clearly unfamiliar with the process.

Our biggest disappointment for most of the trip was that, although we had stopped at many interesting eating places, there was nothing to match the ambience and atmosphere of Milawa, the Swift’s Creek Pie Shop and the Ensay Pub.  We had faced many challenges, encountered mixed weather and varied landscape, and crossed the Murray by ferry, but the romance of an exceptional eating place eluded us.  This all changed on our penultimate cycling day, at Wirraburra and at Melrose.

Wheatley’s Old Bakery (Wood Fired Oven Bakery & Tea Rooms 1880’s Lic’d – Eating House) at Wirraburra is a connoisseur’s delight.  Its interior decoration creates a wonderful ambience redolent of an Australia of yesteryear.  As soon as one walks in one is greeted by kitchen implements hanging from the rafters and ladies in white uniform and chef’s hats.  In a scene akin to the set of a movie based in pre-war times, the ladies played their roles to perfection.  Produce, ranging from jams and cakes to craft items, are displayed around the room, some in baskets.  I had a pie floater that complemented the scene.  If this bakery was in a city there would be queues all day long.  I’d be surprised to be told of a bakery better than this one.

I hope that the million dollar investment made by the owner of the North Star Inn Hotel in Melrose is returned.  It is a question of how many are aware of what I’m about to describe.  The first extension was made in 1910 when the gable roof came off to make way for a two storey extension.  The modern extension has left the exposed gable as it is.  The wall has been stripped of its plaster to expose the stone, and timber supports have been installed.  Old corrugated iron brought from outside is used to close the gaps in the walls.  Empty wheat Hessian bags with the local producer’s name stenciled in cover the ceiling.  The partition between kitchen and eating area is made out of wood and punctuated by different sized 4 cart wheels which allow visual access to the kitchen.  Customers eat from two large tables made out of red gum.  The idea is to create an old world style which is at the same time modern.

XI  = Taking in more of the country

I tend to focus on buildings while traveling.  An example of things which struck me are the two tiny churches, made of blue stone with stained glass windows, on the outskirts of Port Fairy.  I also noticed that whereas spank new buildings are appearing on the increasingly commercialised Great Ocean Road, the rural South Australian towns we passed through lacked a single new building, and this was part of their charm.  I try to read the social history behind buildings, old photos, road signs, and cemetery plots.  My lens instinctively gravitates to the all purpose store in a town, because such institutions encapsulate the history and character of the area more than anything else.

Malcolm by contrast is drawn to the natural environment in its unspoilt state, including creatures from lizards to birds.  Whenever, he espies them he is quick to exploit what is often a rare photo opportunity.  It was his idea to visit the mutton bird colony at Port Fairy in the evening and again in the morning.  I am now a convert to “critter” beauty and ecology, and recognise the role played by the less visible in sustaining the more conspicuous.

XII

The zen of cycling

I lost my cable lock on the first day of the trip.  A picture taken of me at Sorrento shows the cable in place and I am sure that it was still attached to the cycle when we had dinner at Barwon Heads.  From then on I was always anxious at camps for fear of my cycle being stolen.

On the fourth day, while climbing up Laver Hill, my light was detached from under the handle bar bag.  Because I had a torch and didn’t do any night riding the destruction of the light wasn’t an inconvenience.  The next day the front mudguard fell off.  Again I wasn’t greatly inconvenienced even while cycling over puddles.  On the 15^th day while traveling to Palmer I leaned my cycle awkwardly and broke my kick stand.  Yet again, the consequences were minimal.  However, I spent the remainder of the trip wondering which accessory would be next victim of the seemingly inexorable culling process.  I imagined the Gods were punishing me for my flippant dress sense and that my gear would be pared down after the cycle was reduced to its bare essentials.  The incapacitated sleeping bag was certainly a bad omen.

XIII             Why cycle?

A long distance cyclist would be lying if he didn’t from time to time envy the flexibility and comfort enjoyed by passing campervans and cars.  Camping is less of a chore because it is a simple task to pack one’s tent into a car and drive off in the morning.  And with four wheels one would be able to drag out activities such as eating, drinking, and socialising, and be seduced by the lifestyle promoted by South Australian Tourism’s glossy brochures in the “Discover the secrets of” series.  In addition one would have a broader choice of clothes to wear when hitting town at the end of the day.  Finally, it is hard to sell women dates in the form of long distance cycling.

Even if money was not an issue, too much indulgence, if not indolence, will inevitably erode one’s focus, fitness and cycling edge.  Hence, one is either a full on cyclist or not one at all.  And I think the trade off is worth it.

I cycle because I like to adventure.  Although the one element of travel, the ability to go off the beaten track and enjoy nature in its natural ruggedness, is denied to a cyclist, this is more than compensated for by being close to the ground and imbibing on-road sensations and views.  Above all, I wouldn’t trade the sense of achievement, the feeling of a day lived to the fullest, and the plaudits of passers by, for anything in the world.  The excitement of leaving one’s comfort zone for the umpteenth time not knowing what surprises and challenges are in store, surpasses by far the excitement of checking in at the overseas terminal of Sydney airport.

To a lesser extent I occasionally like doing things which run counter to being a creature of habit.  On a cycle one goes nowhere fast, and just as when one is anxious to reach a destination, a puncture, rain or headwind reduces one to a crawl.  One is resigned to being a victim of circumstance and, in addition to seeking strength from adversity, takes comfort from the hope than tomorrow will be a new and better day.

I recently spent a week in Jerusalem and then backpacked from Memphis to Billings, revisiting Little Big Horn along the way.  I was amidst emotionally charged places.  Although in a rush I still felt bored, particularly when traveling long distances in a Greyhound bus.  These days I tend to use cycle touring as a yardstick of adventure against which all other types of travel fare poorly.  Despite the poignancy of places linked to the origins of Western civilisation, rock n’ roll and the final stand of the American Indian, and the romance of solo overseas travel, I felt the real thing lay ahead, namely, the cycle trip to Brisbane.  Although I would be bored driving around Australia on four wheels, the landscape takes on a different complexion when cycling in it.

My lower back aches only when I try to lift myself out of a lounge chair, and not when I am perched over the handle bar, or on a dance floor.  The specialist who examined my collapsed lumber disc urged me to stick to cycling and to be active, on the grounds that a healthy body supported a bad back.  Contrary to the view that I should keep my back in cotton wool, I never feel younger, more vigorous and on top of the game, than when I’m cycling Australia.

Out there on the field of play’s

Not as hard as it may seem

It’s when you’re sitting on the sidelines that you run out of steam

(Graeme Connors, Australian country singer)

Eardley Lieversz ….. September 2004

 The author wishes to acknowledge the invaluable editorial assistance of Linda Davison.  No cycling trip can be brought to a closure until Linda fine tunes the grammar and syntax, and improves the overall tone of the article.

GUIDES AND SOURCE MATERIAL

When it comes to maps of the Great Ocean Road (GOR) there is an embarrassment of riches.  There is even a cycling map of the GOR.   In developing the route to Warrnambool we relied mainly on the Lonely Planet guide to cycling in Australia, supplemented by Great Ocean Road Bicycle Touring, The Great Ocean Road Visitor Map March 2002, Geelong Otway Winter 2001, and Geelong & Bellarine Peninsula.   On our trip we picked up additional material which was just as good as what we started with.  They were – Shipwreck Coast. A volcanic hinterland, Surf Coast, The Great Ocean Road Official Touring Map, Discovery Coast and Hinterland, Great Southern, Two States Touring, Great Southern (including Melbourne to Adelaide connection)(SA Tourism Commission) and Two States.  The last two mentioned were particularly useful as it adopted our view that the Ocean Road extended into South Australia.  I would recommend the publication put out by the South Australian Tourist Commission to anyone contemplating cycling all the away to Adelaide.  In addition we picked up town maps as Torquay Gateway to the Great Ocean Road, Lorne, Wye River Kennet River, Great Ocean Road Tourist Park, Warrnambool, Historic Port Fairy, Heywood, and Dartmoor.  Although we didn’t rely much on local maps during the Victorian leg, our late decision to spend the night close to the Otway Lighthouse was made possible by the fact sheet obtained from the Apollo Bay tourist centre.  The road maps didn’t carry as much detail on camping grounds in Otway Park.

The RACV, NRMA and RAA maps (Victoria State map, South East Australia Touring map 8, and South Australia State Road map), particularly the RAA map, were virtually useless because of their scale.  To find our way on South Australian roads, particularly in the Barossa and Clare Valley regions, we relied on local area maps, some of which were produced by the RAA.  We picked up a local map of Clare Valley in Kapunda, and picked up the following brochures at different times – Coorong National Park Coorong Tourist Business Map, Mount Benson Wine Region (Robe to Kingston), South Australia’s Wine Drives, Adelaide’s Environs, The Premium Barossa Valley, The Barossa, The Riesling Trail, Clare Valley Wine Region, and Southern Flinders ranges.  Adelaide’s Environs is the best map for negotiating an area from Wellington to the northern outskirts of the Barossa Valley, particularly if entering the Barossa from Murray Bridge on the direct route.  In addition, the following maps were useful for finding our way around towns although we didn’t utilise them fully – Mount Gambier Blue Lake City, Mount Gambier Premier rural city in SA, Southend. A guide to our Southern Port and Gateway to the Canuda National Park, Beachport street map, Robe, Kingston cycle track network, Meningie Heart of the Coorong and Lakes, Kapunda, Clare historic walk, Yacka historic walk, Gladstone town walk, Mount Remarkable national park, Melrose An historical walk, Drives around Wilmington, Port Augusta Visitor Guide, and Port Augusta town index and surrounding areas.

Picture books inspire one to adventure, and are gratifying to revisit at the completion of the trip.  Rodney Hyett’s The Great Ocean Road. A journey in photographs (2000) is one such book.  The aerial views provide tantalizing glimpses of the GOR, and evoked the grandeur and romance of the road.  The text covers its history and tradition (which we are now proudly part of).  The annually produced glossy foolscap sized brochures with the 12 Apostles on the cover titled The Great Ocean Drive. Victoria Australia (From coast to country, breathtaking all year round, 2003/Take your time and make the moment last, 2004) contain wonderful articles and pictures that trigger bouts of reminiscence.

A year after our trip I picked up the following items of literature.  Although too late to be of use, they serve to consolidate memories of the trip.  They are: Mornington Peninsula. Official Tourist Map. Melbourne’s Bays & Peninsulas, Great Ocean Road. cycling guide. 2^nd edition, Great Southern Touring Route. 2004 Touring Map, Visitor Map. The great Ocean Road. 2^nd Edition. May 2003, Apollo Bay. Heart of the Great Ocean Road and the Otways, discovery coast. South west Victoria.  In addition, the following are souvenirs of places passed, aids to captioning pictures, and guides to identifying gaps: Mornington Peninsula. Official guide for visitors, Warrnambool Victoria. Visitor guide. 2004, Portland & Surrounds. Visitor’s Handbook 2003/04, flagstaffhill. Unlock the Secrets, Great Ocean Road. Accommodation Centre. Lorne Holiday Guide 2003/2004, discover Peterborough. And THE best kept secret ON THE Great Ocean Road.

Bike AND GEAR Specifications

Bike AND GEAR Specifications

Sydney to Melbourne 2001

Additions, Sydney to Melbourne 2002

Additions, Melbourne to Port Augusta 2003

LIST OF PICTURES

Page 2              Eardley at the Otway Lighthouse (18.00 hours approx.) (22.10.03)

Page 4              Malcolm at Port Campbell National Park (09.45 hours) (23.10.03)

Page 6              Malcolm relaxing on the Riesling Trail (17.00 hours approx.) (3.11.03)

Page 8              Eardley takes a catnap at Murray Town (14.20 – 14.35 hours) (5.11.03)

GUIDE TO ARRANGING POSSESSIONS

MELBOURNE – PT. AUGUSTA, VIA THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD …….   PLANNED VIC ITINERARY 2003

MELBOURNE – PT. AUGUSTA, VIA THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD

PLANNED VIC ITINERARY 2003

MELBOURNE – PT. AUGUSTA, VIA THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD ….. PLANNED SA ITINERARY 2003

Logistical Details 2003 (a) VIC

Logistical Details 2003 (a) VIC

Logistical Details 2003 (b) SA

Logistical Details 2003 (b) SA