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| The moon was still up |
...knicks! But I didn't discover that until later.
First things first, packing up the tent for the last time. There's always a bit of happiness and sadness in packing up the tent for the last time, happiness that it's the last time you have to go through the procedure and sadness because it means it's almost the end of the holiday. Though it was nice to be thinking that soon we'd be back in our own bed, with a couple of days to recover!
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| Sunrise |
The last day was a straight run back into Penneshaw, to catch the 2:30 ferry. There was a fair bit of pressure to get going early so there was no stress out on the road, but Mr Carl and I still seemed to be at the tail end of the morning group. Not quite as much as Brett and Karen, who did leave camp before us, but detoured to the Kingscote bakery before heading off. Brett also was paid a visit by the puncture fairy, which delayed them even further.
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| The other name for Prospect Hill |
The ride was all bitumen, slightly undulating and very cruisy. It felt like we had the wind at our backs as we flew along the road. We picked up our orange caboose as he hitched his final ride on the Adelaide cyclist express. It was while all this flying along was happening that I noticed that the inside of my leg was sore.
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| Caught him! |
Now this wasn't necessarily an unusual experience for me as my leg warmers often irritated my inside thigh, so when I first noticed it I really didn't think much about it. It was when we reached the rest stop and I sat down to enjoy my cuppa that I realised the stitching on my knicks had given way. I like to think it was the sheer power of my legs that burst the stitching at the seams!
Unfortunately the precise location of the split meant that every pedal stroke rubbed skin against my saddle. Still, there was nothing much I could do about it, so I enjoyed the scenery and my cuppa.
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| Amazing views |
Morning tea was located at the top of Prospect Hill. Well, not the actual top, but close enough! The view was amazing and for those hardy souls who still had the energy to climb to the top of the stairs, I'm sure the view was even better. But we were on a mission to make it to the ferry on time and there were hills to climb.
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| The path to the top |
I think that thought was lurking in a lot of peoples minds, the profile for the day showed a nasty kick just before Penneshaw and we were all familiar by now with Kangaroo Islands hills. I knew there was every possibility I would be walking up the last hill, but given how far we had ridden and the various illnesses and injuries (a small hole can cause a lot of pain), I was ok with that.
We rode through beautiful country with the sun shining down on us and the sea gleaming in the distance. It seemed like a bit of a tease after all the weather we'd been through over the past week, but I was never going to complain about riding on a glorious day like that!
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| Mr Carl - photographer extrodinaire! |
Soon enough we approached the base of the climb and agreed to ride it at our own pace. This is mostly for my benefit as there's something a bit torturous about watching someone easily chatter away next to you while your struggling to take a breathe. That being said, it's always nice to have support and Mr Carl has guided me carefully up hills before, but I wanted to do this myself, just me and the hill. Possibly the sun was getting to me, it was a bit of a shock to the system!
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| The top |
Anyway, in my head I had resigned myself to walking up most of the hill, but once I started riding up it, I found my stubborn streak. This was the last hill of the tour, I was not going to walk! I tried hard to remember to look around and enjoy the scenery as I ground my pedals, trying between gasps to notice how lovely the country was and not how close I was to overtaking the lady in front of me!
I made it to the top of the hill and then I stopped. I lent over the handle bars and sucked in lung fulls of air, trying to recover from the slog up the hill. But I had made it! And Mr Carl was nowhere to be seen. I figured that he was just over the next rise, so I got back on the bike and gently took off.
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| Found him! |
The road followed the ridgeline, so there were many next rises for Mr Carl to be hiding on. I actually started worrying, as there were a few maniac drivers in the area, and I had yet to find Mr Carl.
Eventually I found him, waiting for me on the side of the road. He had also made up the hill no worries, so the two of us road towards Penneshaw and the waiting ferry. I'd like to say it was no worries from that point, but while it was all down hill from there, my desire to stop and take photos on said downhill left Mr Carl a little worried at the bottom as he waited for me to join him. Still, I think the photos were worth it! And in truth, with my CX brakes and some very affectionate traffic, flying down the hill didn't really appeal to me.
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| Penneshaw |
We had made it, with time to spare! I hadn't quite come out of it unscathed though, the hole in my knicks had resulted in a small but painful amount of skin removal. However a band-aid soon fixed it enough for the rest of the afternoon. We even managed to have enough time to track down a coffee shop before the ferry trip. And thankfully the ferry trip back was as uneventful as the ferry trip over. We even managed to get the same seats!
The four of us made it back to Cape Jervis in one piece, chased down various pieces of luggage and said goodbye to many new friends. We had all made it, none of us had made use of the sag wagon and all of us had pushed the boundaries of our cycling and in some cases our taste buds as well. All in all it was an amazing trip and while it was nice to be home in my own bed, I'd go back in a heart beat.
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| Happy campers! |
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