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.

Outback Odyssey Day 2 - Ruins of the past

Misty morning

Unexpectedly, Quorn had a reasonably temperate night, which gave us the opportunity for a good night sleep. However, any thoughts of sleeping in were soon destroyed as we received an impressive wake up call from the local kookaburras! While the morning was overcast, the tent was dry and we were looking forward to having a dry pack up.

Overcast

Of course the weather had other ideas, with a light, misty rain settling in over breakfast, enough to dampen the tent, but not the enthusiasm. It was actually quite pleasant riding out in the light drizzle, the wind at our backs. The ride started out with mostly flat or downhill gravel roads, nice terrain to ease the legs into the day.

Yarrah Vale Gorge

Soon we faced our first challenge for the day, Yarrah Vale Gorge. A steady, steep climb, not particularly long, with lots of opportunities for photos. A group of us had gathered near the top, enjoying the view and resting, when our friendly sag wagon approached.

Checking out photo opportunities

One of the good things about being at the back is you often get to have a chat with Ray, the driver, who has an amazing amount of knowledge about the Mawson Trail and the best sites to see in the Flinders Ranges. 

Mr Carl at the top

The night before he had recommended that a detour to see Warren Gorge was to be recommended, but due to our back of pack position we decided to head straight to morning tea. Warren Gorge would have to wait for another trip.

Commemorating Hugh Proby

From morning tea it was all sweeping downhills (though I'm sure I remember a few minor uphills), keeping an eye out for important landmarks. The ride briefing the night before had made mention of Proby's Grave, the grave of a Scottish nobleman who was an early settler in the region. We were actually worried we'd missed it when we spotted a pile of riders gathered at the top of a small hill. As it turns out, it would have been fairly difficult to miss, at least by bike. 

Hugh Proby fell victim to the ephemeral creeks that are common in the Flinders Ranges, drowning as he tried to cross one after a particularly violent storm. His lease for the area had been granted barely a  year before his untimely death. The grave was fenced off and a dead tree stood prominently next to the slab. The view was spectacular, Hugh watching over in death, what he had so little time to see in life.

Big Country

The road continued onward, through a landscape that just seemed to get bigger and bigger. It's always interesting heading out bush because you do realise how narrow your view becomes in the city, crowded in by buildings and people. In the country, especially somewhere like the Flinders Ranges, you can see so far, with so few people. You can tell I'm a country girl at heart!  

Fred and Carl

That being said, we weren't actually alone. A local, intrigued by all the passing traffic, came to investigate. As it turns out in addition to being a farmer, she was also a reporter for the local paper and Mr Carl and I happily posed for a picture with our shiny steeds!

Photo stop!

With the sag wagon hunting us once again, we decided to ride on. Thankfully we weren't the only ones at the back, our friend Fred kept us company, and was always happy to stop for a photo. Likewise, Conrad and Judy, from Melbourne who had started the same time as us, were also happily enjoying the view. 

Our next challenge was Willochra Creek. The storm that had gone through Monday night had left its mark and we had to cross actual flowing water! Thankfully it wasn't at the level that caused so much grief to the early settlers (and still catches people unaware to this day). For us the the challenge would be not getting our feet wet! It was a close call, but with a bit of skill, most of us crossed unscathed.

The view from Simmonston

From there it was uphill to the town that never was, Simmonston. Planned, laid out and in part built, but never settled due to the railway line changing direction. Anyone living there would have been treated to some spectacular views, but I suspect the remoteness would have proved quite challenging. It certainly offered up opportunities for some impressive photos.

Simmonston - still standing

Alas, this was the last interesting stop for a while, as we headed across Willochra Plain, towards lunch. The Willochra Plain is big country, flat, open, endless. And the road across it is straight. Straight and corrugated, though not as bad as other roads I've encountered. Still, it taught me one important lesson, I'm not suited to long, flat, straight rides, I get bored too easy,

 Conrad and Judy with Carl

Finally we reached lunch, not quite the last, but close to it. The official route of the day continued east toward Craddock, however there was an option to go up the highway and cut 10 km off (and probably a lot more time). While part of me was keen to crack 100 km on Maretta, I knew we would struggle to get in at a reasonable time if we took the long option. We decided to take the highway option, which was a brave call after the previous day. It did however have an advantage, we would get to see the ruins of Kanyaka Homestead.

The Brooding Ruins

This had been mentioned in passing in the ride briefing the night before, but it turned out to be one of the most impressive ruins that we would see on the entire trip. The homestead wasn't a single building, but a collection of buildings covering quite a large area. 

Views from the ruins

At its peak it held up to 70 men and their family's, so it's likely it would have resembled a small town. It was an amazing place to take photos and the dark and brooding sky lent an atmosphere to the pictures that helped capture the feeling of the site. We also had fun playing amateur archaeologists, trying to imagine what the site had looked like in it's heyday.

Ruins of the past

From the ruins we had about 25 km of highway before we reached Hawker. The lack of headwind made the ride quick pleasant and I was surprised when we rolled into Hawker a little after 3 pm. I was having a lucky day as there was a massage spot free at 4 pm, and after a quick tent assembly and a shower, I treated myself to a well earned pamper session. Well, that's probably not quite the right term, as it hurt like hell, but it did make me feel better!

Made it!

Tea was filling and delicious, vegetable noodle soup then barbecue and salads, followed by apple crumble slice. Tomorrow, we were told, would bring some serious riding!

Day 2 route here.