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.