Update #1 Or How I stopped worrying about sand flies and learned to loathe pea gravel.

Date: Sun, Dec 3, 2017 at 1:59 AM
Subject: Update #1 Or How I stopped worrying about sand flies and learned to loathe pea gravel.

Hi!

The TL;DR version (aka I just want to look at some pretty photos): https://photos.app.goo.gl/OIoGKc76lQYPOkUZ2

Some quick updates:

1. My phone number is dead. I've given up. I do have another US-based phone number you all can text me at and I'll get it whenever I have service, which seems to be a couple times a week right now: (707) 622-5241. For those of you mathematically inclined, you might enjoy that it's actually 707-NABLA-41 (or Greek.)  which ties in well with the Laplacian domain. Exercise left to the reader if it doesn't instantly click, it's a pretty quick google search tying those together.

2. If you actually want to watch my progress in semi-real time, it's available here: https://share.garmin.com/waltercondley

I wasn't very good at doing it the first couple of days but have been pretty diligent since. 

This has taken a long time to piece together, largely due to pretty poor internet out in the bush.

I've determined that we're officially in the bush when an Australian construction worker was helping me drag my bicycle up a small, but almost perfectly vertical wall where they were replacing a bridge that had burned out and said "Welcome to the bush!"

This gentleman had on a yellow vest, that was darkened by sand flies.

The Construction Scene

I'll get back to Australia in a moment, it's been a few weeks of travelling now. We spent a week in New Zealand, and traveled around north of Auckland.

This isn't our *exact* trip, but it is pretty representative.

It's pretty countryside, but I can't say I'd recommend it if you're time-crunched. It sounds like most of the cool stuff is south-bound.

On the flip side, I got to help hang a co-workers Christmas lights (and thanks for the place to stay Gareth, it was immensely helpful!), spend a couple of nights on an island known for it's wine (but clearly not the red) off the coast of Auckland in a fantasy-inspired tent

And look north on the Pacific Ocean from one of the northern most points of New Zealand, Cape Reinga.

Looking north on the Pacific from our campsite on the most northern tip of New Zealand.

We then flew to Perth and spent a few days there, mostly riding around the city and finding all the good vegan food, and of course, since this is an attempted continent crossing, getting the ceremonial wheel dip in the Indian Ocean.

 
Look ma, no bags!

And then off... kind of.

We had to take a train halfway out to the start line, and then spent the afternoon climbing up in nearly 37C (99F) heat.

We made it out to Mundaring with the intention of starting off pretty easily, but found there was actually no place to stay at the trail head and wound up cruising through the first 8km to a hostel run by the Department of Education.

Managed by a racist old lady who let us camp for $10. [ When in one of the first exchanges you have with her you hear something like "I don't mean to be racist, but <racist slur not worth repeating>" 

But, we had showers to rinse off the copious amounts of sweat, and met our first kangaroos.

Which to be fair, are probably even more prevalent than movies would have you believe. Several times daily I find myself scaring a kangaroo followed by them running across the track in front of me.

She has a baby roo!

We made it to our first hut the next day, and realized (frighteningly - but also pretty cool) that time between people visiting each hut is somewhere between 1-2 weeks.

We literally have not met a single other person doing the trail.

Actually, we've only even *seen* one other person on the trail in the bush. An older Scottish man who left cheeky notes in the front of one of the hut log books that apparently has done that ride 80+ times (and was VERY excited to meet people doing the trail.) 

Of course, there are people in the "towns" but does it really count as coming out of the bush when the town is less than 500 people?

The terrain has been more challenging that I initially gave it credit for. We're climbing about 2000ft/day which fully loaded is actually quite a bit, but the elevation hasn't really been the kicker, the pea gravel has.

The first 200km we've seen referenced in some of the log books as "The Pea Gravel Highway" along with more than a few choice words for how terrible it is.

You sink. And then you stop.

You can be on a moderate down-hill and need to peddle to keep moving.

But most of the downhills aren't moderate. You're basically just surfing your bike down a hill. Up hill? Hike-a-bike.

After that things start to settle down

Yarri Hut about 6am. Absolutely beautiful. Birds singing in the morning sun, the occasional frog and the general cacophony of being in a densely-inhabited forest.

The temperature has varied all over the place, we've had small amounts of rain, nights down to 7C (45F) and everything in between (howling winds!) 

It's been truly amazing watching the forrest, terrain, and wildlife all change right before our eyes. Sometimes in the same day.

We've ridden through forests that caught fire last year, and forests of a variety of trees that I'd probably screw up naming. Open landscapes, dense-foliage single track.

A little bit a fall on the right, a little bit of spring on the left.

We've heard Kookaburras (their call is super unique - worth googling) and a variety of other birds.

We've also fought sand flies. And spiders. Sometimes simultaneously, resulting in trail-side yelling at the spiders to do their job with the flies and stop placing their webs at face-level.

In the past 50km or so we've started spotting goannas and tarantulas (I think). They hold very still, look like sticks, and then when you're about 5 inches away, throwing your brain for a loop ("How the fuck did that stick just - oh wait")

The spiders can be dense. I once counted clearing 19 spider webs in approximately a 1km stretch. Yep, about every 50m. I started riding with a trekking pole like a jousting stick the make the job a bit easier and so I could stop eating barn spiders (you can only have so many for breakfast before you get stomach aches)

Fortunately these guys don't make webs.

All in all it's been great. Reception to cyclists in the small towns has been very positive. We generally wind up meeting people, "Aw, are ya doin' the Munda Biddi? Good on ya." 

Generally, the diversity in the bush has been pretty surprising as well.

Today, as I write this,we're hiding in one of the largest towns we'll be passing through (Pop. ~3,500) Collie, WA. It's quaint. about 1/3 of the way through the track. Mostly taking the opportunity to hide from 37F (in the shade) weather.

I found some nice tea being served out of a restored railway car and spent the morning being casually hit on by a grandmotherly lady ("I like my men tall.") 

We're supposed to see rain in the morning, and one of the more challenging 50km days we've got left on the track with a drop in the high to 27C and then middling around there for a few more days.

It's been nice to give the legs a rest, and of course there are so many more tales in between that I just can't fit in an email that would keep everyone engaged.

Since the whole point of this email format is really to keep things a bit more friendly and intimate, I'd love to hear from you. 

How're things? How's life?

Best,

Jas