Outback Odyssey Day 5 - The highest pub!

It's been a while since I talked about the Outback Odyssey. I ended up with an overuse injury afterward which kept me off the bike and made me very grumpy. Which meant I didn't feel like talking about bikes too much. But I'm back on the bike now and feeling much better, so on with the story!

Early morning views

Day five of the Outback Odyssey saw us leaving Wilpena Pound and heading up to Blinman. And when I say up, I mean it. Not only did we have to climb out of the pound, but we had to climb up to Blinman, South Australia's highest town. The motivation was right though, a traditional end of Mawson beer in the pub.

The night before we had been warned that we were, once again, in for some "serious riding". I also heard tales of single track next to steep drop-off's, so I was somewhat nervous. I had been worried about another freezing night, but the weather was gentle and I had one of my deepest nights sleep on the entire tour.

Morning rolling

The feeling in camp was somewhat jovial as we rolled out for what would be our last day on the trails. This may have been encouraged by a warm breakfast, nothing improves my outlook on the day like a cooked breakfast!

The Challenge!

The trails started with a reasonably gentle climb, which my legs didn't appreciate, however it did provide an early opportunity for a photo stop. From there the trail undulated through forests of native pine (I think). These trails, lit in the gentle morning light, were beautiful to ride through. My only disappointment was that I couldn't find a way to capture it on camera, but maybe some things aren't meant to be captured.

Chris!

The gentle rolling continued, mostly easy riding that flowed and brought a big smile to my face. The only difficulty were the creek crossings and drainages, where rains had caused ruts which could easily shock you out of admiring the scenery. All too soon this would end, as the trail became narrower and wound itself along a small gorge. This was the bit I had been nervous about. 

I took it easy and walked when I had to, before coming to a steep, rocky drop. Carl had already elected to walk this bit which meant I definitely wasn't going to ride it. But I wasn't alone, and a brief photography stop yielded pictures of other, far more skilled (and in Chris's case, more injured) riders treading the path of caution.

Mr Carl - back on track

After that we were back on the undulating track through pine forest. One photo stop too many and the sag wagon was back on our heels, so we decided to take off and try and put some distance between him and us. We did have an advantage over some of our other back of pack riders. We were light weights, travelling with only a saddle bag and camelback. Some of our other back of packers had panniers which held SLR cameras! 

Starting to head up

This advantage became even more evident as we were able to fly through increasingly steep and wide creek crossings. The trick with these was to get as much speed as possible on the descent into the creek so that you could make it as far as possible up the other side. With some of these slopes reaching a 20% gradient, the motivation to gain speed was high. However, this was also a bit dangerous, as ruts, sand and rocks meant that you could easily hit something that would throw you off the bike at high speed. 

Posing for a photo

I had one very close call. Maretta and I had committed to a creek crossing. I had wrapped my hands firmly around the grips, away from the brakes, and flew into the creek. Maretta's dangerous like that, she encourages me to do things I wouldn't normally do! Little did I know that there were deep ruts, deep enough that Mr Carl was frantically trying to tell me to slow down. But by the time I realised, it was too late, so I held on, put my weight back, and flew across the creek. Well, "bounced" might be a more appropriate description, but I stayed upright and fully exercised my vocal cords as I came to a stop. Wisely, I decided to walk the small remainder of the trail out of the creek, allowing my heart to return to it's customary place in my chest, rather than in my mouth!

More up, but what a view!

That crossing proved to be the worst of them and soon we left the fun single track and headed out onto a well maintained dirt road. The morning tea stop was somewhere called Razorback Lookout, and as we were currently riding along a creek this could only mean one thing. We were headed up!

We made it!

This climb would definitely prove to be the toughest and the most rewarding of the whole trip. For sections of the climb my garmin told me that the gradient was well and truly over 20%, and looking back over the file I even managed to find one 49.5% (I expect that may be an error). Walking, with regular photo breaks was the order of the day and thankfully the scenery proved up to the challenge. 

Best view of the day!

We looked back on the northern edge of Wilpena Pound, mountains stretching in all directions. Everyone was so relieved when we finally made the signposted look out, even the site of the sag wagon stalking us couldn't dampen our spirits. Panoramas and happy snaps were taken in great abundance, but one thing was clear, there was no morning tea here!

Necessities of life!

After waiting for traffic (seriously, we almost saw more cars there than we did on the highway), we rolled out, looking for a hot cuppa. As it turned out, there was one more hill, just as steep as the rest, to make us earn our treats! And I definitely treated myself, enjoying my last hot chocolate before Rory, the coffee man, left us for home.

Back on the trail!

With morning tea out the way, we rode on. As a consequence of climbing so much already, we had a rolling downhill for the best part of 15 km. There was a mixture of gravel roads and farmers tracks, and while we still had to keep an eye out for ruts and washouts, it was generally a really nice ride. Patches of sand did keep us on our toes, and me almost on my bottom, as I fishtailed through one section after getting distracted by the scenery.

The Buff (for Karen)

Soon enough the downhill ended and we headed back up. Still on the dirt, there was a mixture of steep uphills and some longer uphill drags. Once again we were faced with creek crossings, this time crossing Bulls Creek twice. For most of us, the steep, rocky terrain made the uphill impossible to ride and we settled into to a push. Some people, Mr Carl in particular, rode these impossibly steep sections like they were nothing! And then, like the true gentleman he is, waited for me at the top.

More rocks and more views

A final creek crossing brought us to lunch, just outside the Flinders Ranges National Park and next to the highway. The highway would form the final 18 km of our ride along the Mawson trail. Like everything else that day, it was up. But instead of interesting creek crossings, this was a long drag. I tucked in behind Mr Carl to shelter from the wind, although it didn't seem too strong at the time.

The highest point . . .

Upward and onward we went. With about 3 km to go, I started to wonder if this elusive Blinman pub was real or just a hallucination brought on by riding the Mawson trail. Who would stick a pub all the way up here?

The riders heading the other direction waving at us indicated that there was indeed a pub, and after one final climb (and a picture at the towns entrance), we rolled in. Russell and the volunteers had the banners out and there were bikes everywhere! We were cheered like champions as we rolled in and posed for a photo. Then to the important things - beer!

The Pub!

Well deserved beer,

with good mates!

We spent some time celebrating with friends before rolling the 5 km back to camp at Alpana Station. The relief was palpable as we set up the tent one last time, made use of the shower truck and headed to dinner. There was no rush as we enjoyed a well earned cider and tucked into a hearty vegetable soup. We shared a table with Wayne and Libby, who two years ago had taken us back from Melrose to Burra. 

Russell's day never ends!

Tea was a delicious roast, beef or lamb, I wasn't quite sure, but delicious all the same. Washed down with another cider as we celebrated our achievement to the relaxed playing of a local musician. That second cider was quite enough and we couldn't stay awake long enough for dessert. As our heads hit the pillows we could hear the party kicking on, everyone celebrating what had been an amazing journey.

Route for the day here.

Don’t fear, just trust and believe

Today, my brain is sad. It has no energy to function in this world. Every little noise makes it try to run away. The tapping of my fingers at the keyboard is almost too much. It wants to turn inwards, for me to close my eyes, block my ears, make my body as small as possible and run from this world. It wants to imagine a warm, fleece blanket, cocooning my body, protecting me from everyone. It wants a safe space, where the noises, the light, the feel of the world can’t intrude. It wants time to heal and regain energy.

How did this happen? How is it today that I am broken, scared to ask for help because it hurts too much to interact with another? Well, there’s been a perfect storm of events leading up to this. It’s hard to remember how amazing I felt at the end of Outback Odyssey, but the beginning of this is there. An overuse injury that kept me off the bike for the best part of 6 weeks. Minimal riding, I couldn't even commute, meaning that one stress relief option was no longer there. Two bad colds later also made me feel like a stranger in my own body. Ridiculously weak and scared that anything I did do would set back the healing I had undergone. So physically I was a bit of a mess. 

The next factor was work. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and the people I do it with, there are just times where it is hard. I am not a people person, though I love interacting with my friends. Interacting with people for me is hard work. I have a knack of saying the wrong thing and have had to teach myself what are the safe and proper conversation methods. I think I'm lacking that part of my brain that will tell me if I'm likely to offend someone. On the plus side, this means I'm not so easy to offend, but it means that I have to put a lot of energy into figuring out what to say as I don’t really want to go around offending people off the bat. The problem with work is that I'm having to interact with more and more people, people that don’t seem to listen and talk to each other in the first place, or at least what one person says is different from what the other person hears. There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s part of being human and learning to work together, but at the moment I feel like I'm the person trying to make sure that everyone is understood and there are just too many people to do that with. I come home and I don’t want to talk, I just want to hide in the corner and not come out.

Not having the bike to de-stress from work means that it builds up until I break. Until small things become unbearable irritants, lift doors closing too fast, people chewing. I feel like the world around me is pressing in on all sides and anything I say is going to make it worse. Or worse still, I struggle to say anything because my brain refuses to work. I try to find the words but then worry that they’re going to be wrong and the panic sets in. My brain goes round in circles, yes I know this is depression, I know it will get better, why am I like this, why can’t I just be normal? Why do I have to worry people I care about? Why can’t I fix myself? Why can’t I explain it so they won’t worry? Should I be worried? What if it doesn't pass?

I know that things will get better. But I think I need to work out better strategies for coping. I don’t like being like this, I want to play in the sunshine with my friends, but I can’t because it hurts and I'm afraid of hurting them. I don’t want to be broken any more.

That was this morning, after I’d made the decision not to race CX because I couldn't handle people. Thankfully my brain got a bit better with some TLC from Mr Carl and I was able to get out on my bike. Maretta and I rode and rode, the constant turning of the pedals allowing my mind to sort itself out. 

I had a moment of understanding on the bike. I know I suffer depression, but this seemed different, that I was stressed out beyond reason. But there was a reason, I was afraid I was failing. Not just work, but on the bike, failing my friends and Mr Carl, failing myself. I want to be a person who is strong and capable, who can look after those I care about. I want to do a good job. I have been lucky enough in my working life to be supported by some exceptional people and I want to pass that on to others I work with. I want to be trusted to do a good job and that needs to be earned. And I am afraid I am failing.

I want to be a good friend, to be there when my friends need me, to put effort into the friendships so that my friends never think I've forgotten them. I want to do this with my family, to provide some sort of cohesion as we all head in different directions, to let them know that I am there for them. I want to be a good partner, to make Mr Carl feel special and like the amazing person I know he is. And I am afraid that I am failing.

I want to be good to myself, to grow both physically and mentally, and not from eating too much cake! I want to find strength and balance in my body and mind. I want to write, to dance, to ride, to run! I want to live. And I am afraid that I am failing.

Before I left for my ride, a friend of mine put up a post that must have resonated with me. He said:

“We need to laugh at ourselves. We need to let ourselves just have fun. Otherwise what do we gain from being serious all the time?”

After I realised that I was afraid, I started laughing at myself. I had taken myself too seriously, put all the burden on myself. I believe I had told others off for doing that very thing!

I am all that I can be at the moment, and it is good enough. I can laugh at myself and know that when I fall, because I will, I have the most amazing friends to help me out. I may be afraid I am failing, but I am doing the best that I can, and at the end of the day, it will be enough. I need to remember a mantra I learnt many years ago, from a book picked up in a two dollar stand;

“Don’t fear, just trust and believe.” – Travels with a Wise Man

I believe I can do this, and if I can’t, I trust that there are many amazing people in my life that can help me. And together we can do this.

Outback Odyssey Day 4 - The Flinders Ranges in all it's glory!

Sunrise

Rawnsley Park was definitely the coldest night, which didn't lend itself to sleeping in, but I tried. At breakfast I heard stories of ice on peoples tents, and we gathered round the heaters to warm up our tired bodies. But the mood was relaxed an jovial, for all we were freezing! Today was only 27 km. After the last couple of days it was a pleasant change.

Glorious singletrack!

The cold must have affected me more than I realised, as I found myself nursing a sore knee. I'm sure it wouldn't have had anything to do with the three days hard riding previously! Spinning was the order of the day. While it was disappointing not to be able to power through what would turn out to be mostly amazing singletrack, nursing the knee let me stop regularly for photos.

Fred

The scenery definitely encouraged regular photo breaks. The single track out of Rawnsley Park took us along the southern edge of Wilpena Pound. Everybody was enjoying themselves, we were rarely alone at our photostops. Fred in particular, made frequent use of his camera, so much so that we soon left him behind!

Creek crossings

The track undulated, dipping down to cross creeks then climbing back up. With my knee feeling tender, I was cautious and walked some of the rockier crossings. But I'd love to go back and ride that section, it was probably my favourite of the whole trip! It would be an amazing 24 hour endurance course if it looped back the entrance road of Rawnsley Park, but unfortunately it didn't and soon we were spat out onto the highway.

Watch for markers!

The highway section was a gentle rise and plenty of scenery to distract us. It ran along the eastern edge of Wilpena Pound and even here there were plenty of photo stops. However, we had been warned the night before to "watch for the red arrows" as the turn off from the highway was easy to miss, so we were paying close attention to our surroundings. 

Mr Carl -  "It's really big!"

When we passed the information centre, we knew the turn off was close. Sure enough, two red arrows attached to a Mawson marker pointed us in the right direction. If we hadn't been watching, it would have been easy to miss!

Old Telegraph Track

There was only a short bit of climbing left before the road turned downward, but there was still plenty of scenery. My knee had warmed up and I was feeling decidedly better the closer I got to Wilpena. We rode along the old telegraph track that still had some of the telegraph poles (or replicas) in place. This brought us out at the north eastern edge of Wilpena Pound and onto the road into the resort where we were staying.

Made it!

We cruised into camp and faced what would be our biggest dilemma of the day, where would we put the tent? We actually put it up in one location, but the ground was so hard that we had to pick it up and move it! Eventually we settled in, got changed and headed to lunch.

This also was more challenging than the ride, as the resort is actually a fairly big place when you're walking. After a few false starts we headed in the right direction and conveniently past the masseurs. Luck was all mine as I expected all the early arrivals to have filled up the available slots, but I managed to book a whole hour of being pampered/tortured! 

With a smile on my face, we headed to lunch. Food was plentiful and varied, and included cake and fruit salad for dessert! We caught up with friends and relaxed in very pleasant, sunlit surrounds. However, we did need to do some bike maintenance, so we headed back to the tent.

Mobile bike mechanic

The bikes had held up well given everything we'd thrown at them, but they were starting to sound a bit grindy. We went over our respective drive trains with wet ones then Carl lubed the chains as headed off for my massage. An hour of torture and a hot chocolate later and I was feeling more myself.

Happy Campers!

Tea was held in the marquee again and was a very boisterous affair. Music accompanied dinner, provided by "On ya Bike". Food was plentiful and tasty and the company was excellent. The main in particular was excellent, consisting of roast chicken, beef stroganoff with rice, pasta, wedges and a big serve of veggies steamed to perfection. How they managed that for over 200 people is beyond me, but I was glad to have such a filling and tasty meal. 

The evening wound up with the introduction of a new weather girl, Christina, as well as a warning about tomorrows trails. 'Beware the ruts and the washouts,' rang in my ears, louder than the music, as we headed back to the tent for a good night sleep.

Route for the day here

Outback Odyssey Day 3 - Where the wild wind blows

Sunrise

We awoke early and when we emerged from the tent we were greeted with the light from a glorious sunrise hitting the peaks to the west of us. They glowed red and prompted many sleepy riders to pull out their cameras. If this was the scenery at the start of the day, what would we see by the end?

Dirt roads . . .

For all it had been a rocky camp site, I had slept well after my massage and was looking forward to completing the last of the long days. We rolled out after a warming and hearty cooked breakfast, soon finding ourselves on the outskirts of Hawker. This was the last bitumen we would see for a while, as we enjoyed dirt roads and farmers tracks with the wind at our backs. 

. . . and the wind at our backs!

We were tail enders once again, seeing many of the same people that we had ridden with the day before. But no one was inclined to pass up an interesting landmark or photo opportunity, so we were intrigued when we found a crowd had gathered around a big, marble tomb. There had been no mention of this in the briefing, yet here was this monument to a man in the middle of nowhere. 

Douglas Bruce

His name was Douglas Bruce and he died aged 59 from a fall from a horse. The grave was bigger than Hugh Proby's and the effort to get that much marble to the middle of nowhere would have been significant, yet there seemed to be precious little information about him. I did manage to find reference to his brother, Robert Bruce, who was a pastoralist and writer (Robert Bruce Biography), which may explain the elaborate tomb of his brother.

Rolling along

With both our curiosity and legs ticking over, we meandered on. The terrain was easily traversed and the scenery magnificent, with the Wide Range flanking us on the right. They did serve as a constant reminder however, of what was to come, as by this evening we would be over the other side of it and other ranges.

Our first hill

Soon we had our first taste of hills, as a sharp turn to the left sent us straight up a short, rocky hill. Mr Carl cleared it no worries and I came close, stopping about 10 meters from the top. A short walk to the top revealed stunning scenery, and the cameras once again got a work out. From our vantage point we could see the sag wagon, and with no desire to be stalked for another day, we headed off.

Careful!

The trail rolled on, fast and flowy, with no noticeable wind. We turned to crest a slight hill and there it was, the "descent". We had been warned about it, during the rider briefing. The stories we had heard from other riders were notorious, broken bones and shattered egos. Not wanting to join these stories, both Mr Carl and I walked, after taking an appropriate amount of pictures of course! Walking proved challenging enough, with the loose rocks providing ample opportunity to twist an ankle. We made it to the bottom, and I developed a greater appreciation for the rock wallaby species that inhabit this area as the terrain was truly challenging.

Ray

The sag wagon had caught up with us, and we watched in amazement as Ray skilfully piloted the vehicle down the narrow track. We then took off so we could at least beat him to morning tea! A warm cuppa was most welcome and after a quick chat with everyone, we rolled out once more. Only to detour as I found a very important stop - a toilet! Actual toilets were, as expected, few and far between on these rides, so my rule is to make use of them when I can!

Elder Ranges

The morning rolled on and so did we, the Elder Ranges now flanking us, causing us to stop frequently due to stunning scenery. The terrain and the tail wind meant that we flew along these dirt tracks and I harboured thoughts of making it to Rawnsley Park at a respectable time. Sadly, we were soon finished with this section and jumped out on the highway as we continued on to the lunch stop.

What a view!

The lunch stop was ominous, with an icy wind that cut through all my layers. The addition of a leaky camelback didn't help (user error, nothing serious) and the cold soon made me want to keep going. There had been some mix up with the caterers and lunch was a little light on, but our awesome volunteers made sure everyone got fed. They always looked out for us tail enders, something that was much appreciated on these longer days.

Part of the Red Range

My thoughts of arriving at Rawnsley Park at a respectable time were decimated as we pulled away from lunch. I could barely reach 10 km/hr! Had I fallen foul of one of the rookie cycling errors and bonked? My legs simply wouldn't go any faster and I began to envision a sad day being collected by the sag wagon as I could go no further.

My knight on shining titanium!

Had I paid more attention to the profile, I might not have been so surprised. We climbed 200 m in about 15 km, and not straight up either, but rolling ups and downs which meant more climbing. The head wind was so icy and sucked every bit of energy from me, but I had a secret weapon. I had Mr Carl! As always, he was my knight on his shining titanium steed, patiently waiting for me, keeping me calm as I was about to have a temper tantrum in frustration.

The other side of the Elder Ranges

After about 5 km my legs realised that I wasn't going to give up and decided to play nice, or at least go slightly faster than 10 km/hr. As it became easier, I tried to return the favour to Mr Carl, pulling him along as the road became corrugated and fairly un-fun. 

Maretta, ready to roll,
me, not so much!

If I haven't mentioned the scenery much, you'll have to forgive me. It was stunning, we were crossing the Elder Ranges after all, but between the icy headwind, the uphill and the corrugations, there was little motivation to stop and smell the roses.

One more hill

Soon we came to a water/afternoon tea stop. The volunteers once again looked after us admirably, especially as we were a grumpy lot by this time, however we were keen to keep going and get out of the cold. We had a bit under 15 km to go, still uphill, but at least it was on bitumen and we didn't have a headwind.

Made it!

Roughly 50 minutes later we pulled into Rawnsley Park, even taking the time to snap some shots of the southern edge of Wilpeana Pound on the way in. It was just after 4 pm when we rolled in, so finding a spot for the tent was challenging to say the least. We eventually found one between a couple of trees, however with some encouragement from so other riders, we actually snuck our tent into a spot were a permanent tent used to be. Score!

I also had some luck when it came to showers as I walked into the shower block (luxury!) and found it completely empty with the showers pipping hot! Unbeknown to me, everyone had been redirected to a different block as this one had run out of hot water. I must have timed it just right and I luxuriated steaming hot water, relaxing and soothing my tired muscles.

Amazing views

One hot chocolate later and the trials of the day had almost been forgotten. We joined some of the volunteers, as well our supplier of all things caffeine related, Rory, for dinner. It's always interesting sitting with the volunteers as you here a completely different perspective on the day. In many ways, their day is longer, harder and much less fun then ours. Ours would be a whole pile less fun if it wasn't for them, so I take my hat off to the amazing volunteers that make the trip what it is.

Trusty steeds

Dinner was, at best, a disappointing affair, doubly so as it was prepared by a chef. Potato soup (I think) with little flavour, and lasagne with barely much more, left most of us wanting. At least it was filling and warm. Dessert was a significant improvement on the rest of the meal, an incredibly tasty apple crumble.   

Tomorrow, we were told, would involve some "serious cycling", but at least it would be short! Single track would be the order of the day and recent rains may have left it rutted, so we needed to be careful. Still, everyone was feeling pretty happy, the long days were behind us, the fun days were ahead! 

Route for the day here.