Gurrundah TSR to Cox River.

Monday 30 April : Gurrundah TSR to Wollindilly TSR

37.3km, 2h 31min, max 46km/hr.

Pluses, some minuses... how interesting.

Note : PMI : Another of Edward De Bono's thinking strategies.

Pluses

An ideal day - largest part of ride in the am, a bit of sightseeing around lunch and then a short pm ride to camp for free!

It was not raining in the morning and the wind had dried my tent.

The morning section was how I imagine it would be riding in England - a British named lane, misty, cold, sheep grazing on very green grass and the stone architecture of the buildings.

Flat but windy and good for windmills - there are 8 on a wind farm generating enough electricity for 3 500 homes.

Joyce the helpful information lady and the chips and service from Paul's Cafe.

Crookwell is a legendary town - was really impressed with the people, facilities and atmosphere.

Minuses

The Gurrundah TSR was not a nice place to camp.

It was cold, overcast and misty in the morning making getting started hard.

A full on headwind for much of the trip into Crookwell and the out of Crookwell also.

Damage to pannier and cover when it came off coming down a hill at high speed.

Didn't get to see the wind farm on the road to Goulburn, or to go to any of the pubs in town.

Horse tripped on my tent stay late in the evening which was not nice and they were constantly snorting which kept me awake for a bit.

Interesting.

Nearly did a 4 minute mile down Bannister Lane, but this was interrupted by a pannier aborting it's rack position.

The architecture of the churches, old school and many of the country houses.

Seeing the milestones by the side of the road.

The wind was strong, but the mist remained and didn't seem to be moving - very weird.

The roads in this area are at right angles to each other, not winding like in most of the other areas I have been in.

The sheep were sitting down and were not Merinos - didn't find out what breed.

Because of the mist I couldn't see the contours of the land up ahead, so I didn't know what sort of hill/down hill was coming.

Tuesday 1 May : Wollondilly TSR to Wombat Ridge via Taralga

61.5km, 4h 15 min, max 63km/hr.

Womby want a cracker? (Huh?)

A miserable sort of day but the horsies didn't seem to mind or notice - maybe it's just a human thing. The rain wasn't really falling. It was more of a wind blown mist that condensed into drops as you rode into it. Lots of back roads were ridden to get to Taralga and plenty of 90 degree turns were executed

I passed a Limousin cattle stud. The last time I'd heard about Limousin was on a grade 11 Agriculture camp in 1990. A very interesting breed with a lot of potential from memory. A nice looking quadruped - much more attractive than a potato with match stick legs. Well, it's true.

Hills were rolling and the road was sandy and smooth. Great for cycling really if you were waterproof.

Got into Taralga and considered going on to the Wombeyan Caves as it was only noon and I was in for a bit of pain today. Scouted out the show grounds and they looked pretty good. Hot showers and flat lush grass to camp on, but a $4 fee. The lady in the grocery store reckoned I could make it to the caves in less than 3 hours easily. She did make it clear that she was not a bike rider and really had no idea if this was an accurate assessment. I merely said that that's ok, not many people I have spoken to on the trip really have any idea!

'Shop lady' directed me back to the Anglican church I'd passed on the way to scout the night's camp. I'd noted that the building was very grand and large compared to the other structures in the town. I snuck in the side door and got some photos of the interior. A Wombeyan marble altar adorns the church's 'stage' and circular stained glass windows let subtle beams of coloured light fall to the floor. (That was just a little poetic interlude). The copper's station was directly across the road but no faces were peeping out from behind the blind. They either didn't care that a roughish traveller was going in to the grand church, or they weren't there (like many country police stations). Probably the latter.

Take a trip back in time to the Cuppacumalong shearing sheds around the 22nd of April. Remember the crew that invited me in to their warm abode for some tallies and chit-chat? Well, they directed me to the second pub on the left in this town (if you came from Goulburn) as a friend of the family of Wally Serene. I waltzed in a bit like a blue leech with legs and asked for a pot of beer. All three heads at the bar turned and asked if I came from Victoria. I laughed and said "Never - I'm from over the border to the north".

The bar man filled me in on Wally, who turned out to be a bit of a local legend. He ran a market garden with very reputable produce which he sent and sold near and far. He used to frequent this pub. Good on ya Wally. He probably ordered the sausages and veges counter meal lunch once and decided to come back. That's what I had and it was just tops.

There was an old sourish chap at the bar mulling over his beer and offering muttered negativ-ish comments from time to time relating to the general larrikin-ish conversation between the other two younger blokes at the far end of the narrow wooden bar. I was just trying to write the longest sentence I possibly could without a comma in it. I asked the walls for some local knowledge on the road to Wombeyan and these two larrikins were the ones to offer all of their knowledge. There are a heap of 'magic' spots around the area according to Craig, so many in fact that I'll have to come back again. Mick offered a warm house for the night and a BBQ but I thought I'd soldier on to W.C. (unfortunate initials really).

About 5km out of town Mick passed me in his vehicle and offered again seeing it was starting to rain nicely. I accepted the invitation and the rough directions to his block of lad upon which he was building a house. It was on the way to W.C. anyway and only a 5km detour which would be easy to add on to tomorrow anyway. Rode on through the original Merino country - 'Richlands' where John McArthur started the Australian wool industry rolling. Hence the name hey. Rode on towards 'Wombat Ridge' off Mare Forest Rd along a road which appeared to have had calamine lotion poured all over it. It was exactly that colour. The gravel was a sort of pinky colour and the puddles were made for soothing kids' mozzie bites.

Said I'd arrive by about 4pm at Mick's but got there at 3pm. Hills going down were the reason of course. My gears were causing problems... sorry - my chain clogging up with sand and catching on the chain ring was a problem. Very irritating to ride with. Couldn't do too much about it so learnt a bit about tolerance. Mick noted that I was an hour early and so I offered to wait at his gate in the rain which brought a laugh. Was introduced to his brother Craig which meant that at this BBQ there'd be 2 Micks and 2 Craigs. This was the easiest name arrangement I'd come across yet. 50/50 really, and then you could always cover it up by pretending to have asked the other person.

Sausages, eggs, ham steaks and BBQed potato slices! Hoo-ray - a real meaty meal at last. We talked in the cold, and then the pot bellied warmth, of houses, kids, Taralga, motor bikes, kangaroos and wombats, Canberra's policy and dogs until about 10pm. Slept on a mattress on the floor in the temporary abode which had a fairly simple floor plan - a rectangle. The new house is just a steel frame at the moment but should be finished in about 2 months if the rain cooperates.

Was a bit worried about my bike and gear outside after talk of local thieves working hard in the area. Mick and Craig had told some locals at the pub that they'd bought some bear traps at a garage sale and had set them around their block. The drinkers were aghast, but word got around especially fast after Mick shrugged his shoulders and said that he'd be there with his shovel ready to dig the hole for them.

Wednesday 2 May : Wombat Ridge to Wombeyan Caves

23.8km, 1h 19min, max 49,5km/hr.

Smokes, caves and food.

These two brothers had some smokes for breakfast - home made from local tobacco of course to save money and to "avoid Johnny Howard reaching into the back pocket". Craig drinks a lot of Pepsi but didn't have one for breakfast. He collects all of the cans and the brass welding rod stubs from his mates' work place to recycle. All of the money earned here goes to his kids as a Christmas present. Last year they each received $211 to spend. Back on the breakfast topic - I has some bread with honey and vegemite (separate slices!)

Together these two have built, adapted, modified and created all sorts of otherwise purchasable items, tools and machinery to minimise the $ they need to spend. Most of the resources for the things they build are salvaged form other people, scrap yards and garage sales. It is just amazing to see the results of the ingenuity and skill of these two.

Mick had to go to Sydney (via Goulburn/Hume Highway) to see his missus, a horticulturist in Sydney's western suburbs. I headed off after a chat with Craig and a good flush of my chain to get rid of some of the sand it was trying to consume. The flush resulted in a deluge that resembled a beach being sand pumped. A proper job to clean this is called for while at the Wombeyan Caves 20km away.

Not too long on the bike and mostly downhill. The Calamine lotion had soaked in nicely. Strangely there was a green tinge to the road/gravel midway through the ride. Nice colours for the Christmas season. I arrived to find a very serene area at the bottom of the valley. Booked a tour and a self guided exploration of the Fig Tree Cave. Paid for a tent site (powered) which cost $6.50 - a super price compared to every other powered site I've paid for. Was going to buy a box of Arnott’s Shapes, but at $4.10 a box I thought I'd give it a miss and treat myself to two caramel choc chip Paddle Pops (for which I've developed a liking for since Dargo... or was it as early as Licola?).

Set the tent near the communal kitchen area. A caves conference was in progress and I found out that it was actually going for about 4 days. Quite a significant event for the Wombeyan Caves as there were delegates from all around the Pacific region. Plenty of people about for the middle of the week which is usually pretty quiet, but they were all hanging about together.

Transferred photos from the previous day or so after giving the chain a good clean and lube. Had some snacks/lunch then figured I could fit in the self guided cave before the guide led cave. Uhh... you're meant to be given a token to put in the door so you can actually go in. Went back to the office to get given my token that got overlooked on my arrival and was given a very handy pamphlet as well. Tour was 45 minutes away so I couldn't start the self guided one. Back to the campsite to change shoes and dump the water bottle.

Frank was the guide, and he was a bit puffed after the 5 minute walk up to the caves entrances which are scattered over the top of the hill. Did the Wollindilly Cave if that name is anywhere near correct. I know it started with a 'W'. A very impressive visual experience from Oohhhh to Ahhhh, and with only 8 people on the tour questions were answered and explained with plenty of time still available to spend looking in each cavern or notable section. Good value for money. Frank had plenty of information in his head, but he actually sounded like a tape recorded message. A little weird, but something to think about. Took a full 'film' of photos in this cave while playing with the different results achieved by changing the exposure and not using the flash. Something I need to practise more as half of them didn't come out with very appealing pixelage.

The Fig Tree Cave was interesting as sensors activate the lights and in some places a commentary. You have to be quick in focusing your attention as the lights go from aspect to aspect in each cavern. I had to re trip the sensor on several occasions to get the lights to go on again so I could get a photo. The cave followed a snake like path at generally the same elevation. Fones were available in case you phreaked out. I noticed that they were only at the very start and at Station Three (out of 10 stops). The phones were only to the rangers/guides for comfort or assistance... not your mom or aunty or relative/friend of choice. Too bad if you got paranoid a little later on or were a victim or claustrophobia. It would be hard to go wrong though, even if you only had just half a granule of common sense. Victoria's Arch at the end was impressive so I got some natural light photos of cavey stuff there.

It was about 4:30pm so I transferred the photos and did a cull of the poor ones and then thought about dinner. The conference mob was heading into Taralga for a meal and to socialise with the locals so I decided to 'take over' the conference room and their quietly crackling fire. This was a posturaly beneficial place to type compared to the regular confines of the tent. The kitchen ladies had an evening off due to the town meal and said I could use any part of the kitchen even though their gear was everywhere. Marie (marr-ree) joined me by the fire to do some accounting and GST contemplation and since we were sharing the fire we got talking. She noted that me staying with people along the way in their houses involved a significant amount of trust from both parties.

Marie offered me some leftover beef and mushroom casserole to which I replied "Yes - that'd be super. I need every calorie I can get." This was real food. This also resulted in an avalanche of food being offered. The conference had only a day to go so they cold afford to ensure that they'd use most of it in one way or another. Marianna, the lucky offsider who got to not do the paper work, captured me with her fruitcake and so I had a few slices before hogging into the casserole on toast with a fruit juice Popper and a banana and apple. Man, it was all so good.

While finishing my generous meal two chicks (and possibly ladies) who I name 'Foxy and Locksie', came into the fire. They work at the Booboyan (sp.?) Caves south of Dargo and Licola in Victoria - a route I almost took because of the Achilles injury. 'Foxy' was a guide at the caves there and just loved caves and caving so she worked her way into becoming a cave guide. 'Locksie' was her boss, and a little less chatty, and she proceeded to dry her hair dangerously close to the fire. (This told me that she'd forgotten her hair dryer and that the cabins didn't have any - ladies remember that if you go there.) I told them before they left to get on the bus that I'd visit their caves on my next visit to Victoria.

Got Week 6 sorted on the site before 'M&M' returned at about 10:00pm. Had some hot milo and cookies care of the conference budget. Marianna quietly gave me some fruitcake for my travels over the next few days. Only two slices but each slice was 5cm x 5cm x 10cm! She also gave me some bananas and an apple, and told me to come by in the morning to see if there was any leftovers from the hot breakfast the mob would get. Marie later also invited me to do the same (if the boss wasn't hanging about) so I had a short mental calculation and consideration of whether this meant two hot breakfasts or one. I could manage both I thought. Left the fire for my L.N.H. before 11pm after turning one of the bloke's wet boots again. As I settled down to sleep the loud and happy mob returned from Taralga.

Thursday 3 May : Wombeyan Caves to Mt Werong Stone House

41.3km, 3h 37min, max 40km/hr.

Trevor Carriawl's Perspective.

I'd been standing up all night chained to the power post. A regular scenario for this type of camping location. My load again received the comparative luxury of lying protected under the tarp, while my passenger and his most dear again concealed and secured themselves in the little green bag. Perhaps one night we will rotate this arrangement.

Michael, as people refer to him, stirred as usual after the light grew to a useful level. His usual noises were made which I can only suspect involve eating (which he seems to do a lot) and clicking on his secret bag's contents. He came out after a while and took me for an early ride down to the orange topped box. He'd actually started to walk down, but, to my amusement, had forgotten his little hand sized friend with the numbers on it, and so had to come back. Rolling down the slope I heard him mutter something about the cold.

He poked and put things in the top of the device in the orange topped box for a short time but only said "You've got to be joking". He usually says more than this. We returned to the green bag passing a few cars on the way. Again I got the post and he got the tent.

He tapped away for a fairly long time then we did the same thing all over again. He let me steer myself as we went this time as he tried to keep his hands warm behind his back... but he didn't trust me when a red car approached. (You'd think he would after 1 400km. Honestly - I'm not a suicidal tredly.) As he tried the poking again a lady called out to say the phones were out. I couldn't quite catch what he muttered this time. However this statement he could not believe so we rolled over to the lady for some sort of clarification. He spoke to her about a need to contact a particular human called 'Steven' who I recall meeting once before. Michael came to the conclusion that wherever he went in NSW the orange boxes played up or failed. The lady agreed with him.

Michael took his little thing with numbers into the smoke topped room to "get a charge for a while" and talked to a lady near the room with nice smells for a minute or two. He packed up some gear and then the lady he had spoken to came over with a big foil package for which he was very grateful. When he brought the package out of his little house it was much smaller than before but still smelt nice. I watched the sun creep slowly over the hills while all of this was happening and noticed the widening blue sky which was good news for me and my chain.

While finishing stuffing big things into small bags Michael shook my rack and decided that it was time to replace that dodgy bolt that had been loosening gradually since he taped it up. He put a nice tight one on and even used some little washers which he had to bend a bit to make larger. He then checked over me quite thoroughly and I must say I appreciated the attention.

The glutton returned with an even larger foil packet but no little numbered thing a little later from the aromatic room. When he loaded me up I was not prepared for the full load weight. I usually get lighter and lighter in these areas, but it looked as though I'd have to carry this weight plus him up that long steepish hill we'd come down yesterday. How generous and thoughtful of him.

The early morning lady we'd spoken to first today came by and gave Michael his phone (which I've worked out is the name for the little thing with numbers). It appeared that she or someone else had abducted it from the room with smoke at the top and had intended to send it to exile in a place called 'Goulburn' which I don't think I went through. I was happy she had returned it as I had no intention of taking his highness and gear all the way back to where I think that was.

We left just before the sun got really high which was "a bit late" as Michael put it, so we could get to an orange topped box which it turns out is also a phone. Phones obviously come in dramatically different shapes and sizes. He said to the older nice smelling room lady that he wanted to try to get to Black Springs but that is 80km away and we weren't going to get that far in one afternoon that's for sure.

The hill wasn't too bad and we made some good time with Michael's efforts on my greasy chain. Stopped on a flat high area where he ate a heap of the stuff out of one of the foil packets. We then went down a map that was narrowing for about a km. We went back up this track shortly after so I think he must have been detouring going to see something very ordinary or had taken a wrong turn. I think it was the latter because as we went along the other track he said "This would be the one to go along as there's a rain gauge just there".

I got pushed up some hills a little later on. Michael was much quieter than usual when doing this. The road got flatter and better but the light was starting to get a little orangey. We pulled into an area with a few stone buildings. Michael checked it out while I leaned against a barrier looking pretty suave if I may say so myself. He returned, muttered, paced, scanned maps and looked at the sky. Having some trouble coming to a decision I think. He ate some more stuff which he never offers me. He took his camera which I nurse all day in to the buildings and came back with a noticeably sprightly spring to his step and he wheeled me into a lovely room with yellow carpet and large windows. How nice. I wondered where he'd bee sleeping if this was my room but it turned out we were all in the same room. It seems my equal opportunity wishes had come true!

Michael pottered off to feed himself (again) but had forgotten to unload me properly. I think he had something else in mind which he clearly didn't share with me. Nonetheless I was happy to not be chained to a post and at the mercy of the elements.

Friday 4 May : Mt Werong Stone House to Edith ...then Oberon

67.6km, 3h 54m, 58km/hr.

Unusual, but you'll get the hang of it.

Alarm went off at 5:20am,

quite quietly from the depths of my sleeping bag.

Rose and was riding by 6:20am,

up uphills that were made for later in the day.

40km I'd done by 9:15am,

stopped stopping too frequently - had to get to a phone.

Got through to Steve - from me he said "2 hours",

ate eight pieces of damper then off to Edith I set.

Fine country (sheep and pine) - Edith 11:15pm,

sat Saturday dreaming - a companion here soon.

While transferring a horn beeped at 2pm,

chit-chattered like toy teeth, on to Oberon we drove.

Nourishment top-ups we'd settled by 4pm,

inn inside was warm with showers tea and E.Bs.

To dine at the restaurant at 7pm...

Wait! Waitresses always dress just a little more formally.

Two drinks cost a lot less elsewhere than $8,

chomped chicken while Steve had an enticing roast.

Watched the finale of Survivor till 11pm,

Sore, saw that my day had come to an end.

Saturday 5 May : Oberon to Forestry HQ via Jenolan Caves

Drove about in Rhonda.

Problems in perspective.

The problem with beds is that you have to step down out of them and the tension of the tucked in sheets make your feet sit at uncomfortable angles. I think I am now accustomed to sleeping bag sleeping. I knew this would come, but I thought it would have happened much earlier in the journey.

The problem with brochures is that they don't give you all the information you need. The Jenolan Caves one stated that it was $49 for 2 hours in the caves. This seemed crazy and was well out of the budget. No other brochure said anything different about prices, and in fact there was no other Jenolan brochure. Steve and I found out later that it was actually much cheaper to see the caves as that bit of advertising was only for the adventure caving experience. We left for the caves straight away.

The problem with doing a web site when traveling is finding upload points in each town. For some mysterious reason the motel room phone wouldn't connect and so a simple upload from there just didn't happen. The local library was on a network and the council was closed since it was the weekend. 'Rumours of Oberon', a coffee shop type of business with internet access in the main street was where I eventually up loaded. A very nice owner there who realised the simplicity of the operation. He'll get a postcard.

The problem with paper based office habits is that they require wood pulp to make the paper. Recycling is great but trees/new wood still is required for the strength contained in the new fibers. We watched a single man in a single machine at work bringing a forest neatly and almost surgically to rest. We stood and watched as this one machine cut the tree at the base, tipped it to horizontal, trimmed the branches, stripped some of the bark and then chopped it into about 3 neat and equal logs. Amazing. All of that in about 40 seconds. The pine trees are growing on those hills for roughly 20 years.

The problem with visiting the Jenolan Caves from the Oberon side road is that it is gravel for about 12km and the last 7km are down a steep winding road. Your car can take a bit of wear and tear on such a short but strenuous trip. Rhonda the Honda wasn't very brake happy with about 2km left to descend. A smell you shouldn't was becoming very obvious. It's also good to have a handbrake that can cope with the incline presented by the road. It's no wonder that buses and trucks are not allowed to go to Jenolan from this direction. Once we parked ($5) and got out of the car it was noticeable that Rhonda was not the only one who'd been challenged around the brakes.

The problem with visiting the caves and walking around in them is that you get a sore neck from looking around. This you can't help as the features inside see are just stunning. One of the caves had a small cavern which was lit in colour. This reminded me of a cave visit (in my distant memory) to caves in England the early Eighties. I think it was a trend back then. There are some very large caves at Jenolan with plenty of stairs to climb and descend. No ladders like at the Wombeyan Caves though. See Jenolan Caves write up.

The problem with the Forestry HQ camp suggested by the guide books is that it has fallen into absolute disgrace. There were rubbish piles on the better choices of places to pitch a tent. The HQ building had been demolished and the area was littered with broken beer bottle glass. Very unpleasant really. Noise wise it wasn't much better with a group of trail bike riders across the main road giving their machines a good work out. You deal with it though and make the best of the best that is available.

The problem with Steve leaving was that I was now solo again. I had to stand around for a minute or two working out what routine it was I had to start or continue. It's quite healthy to be concerned about something else I realised. As a solo trekker you tend to get quite ego-centric and set in your little world and ways. Plenty of good points about it though... I can't complain about the freedom or space!

Sunday 6 May : Forestry HQ to Cox River via Hampton

34.8km, 2h 20min, max 46km/hr.

A short day.

The next BNT stop was at Hampton. It was a whole 13km away. A short day indeed. The historic 'Halfway House' is there. It's an historic pub between Katoomba and the Jenolan caves. It's sort of a mecca for travellers. More so in 'ye olde days' than today but still very significant.

Wrote up lots of journal entries. Took my time before leaving at 11:20am. Decided I'd ride into Sydney. Because of this I was very motivated. It was overcast but not raining yet. My clothes supply was becoming very putrid. Plenty to see up near Katoomba. Would have to do washing ASAP though.

Found my way towards Mt Bindi. Two notable photos came from the ride to Hampton. The sign next to this barren forestry area hill was ironic. It said "Your forests are in safe hands". The second photo I was lucky to get. Saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye in pines. This little number speaks volumes. "Don't eat me and don't bother touching me either." A chance to practice some close up photography. Was half expecting a tap on the shoulder from a gnome. Perhaps even Oberon the king of the fairies. A magical area here. Not like any of the pine forests I have been past previously. The two sides of the road also contrasted. One pine and the other eucalypt forest. A contrast of foliage, height, canopy, light, colour and wildlife. Mushrooms only on the right below the pines.

Stopped at the roadhouse in Hampton for lunch. A burger and a milkshake served by an Austrian bloke. Austrian was my third alternative when asking for his nationality. A roaring fire and some good local knowledge. An enormous range of nick-knacks in the dining room. Plenty to read and consider.

Stopped at the Half-way Hotel 1km up the road. Had two beers and a sausage roll. Watched some of Canberra car rally. A bit was around Mt Stromolo forest. I remember seeing the closure notices when there. It was suggested that I ride on to Cox River. This was down in the valley but a good back road. Filled water bottles outside the pub.

Rain set in nicely. Chased a kangaroo down the road towards the Cox River. It was hopping comfortably at about 30km/hr. The sky became clearer as I lost elevation. Miserable weather was hanging around the mountain fringe. River crossing had plenty of bins but they were very full. Grass was quite long in the place I chose. Fly fishers were about doing their weird thing. Set up camp in the wet. Cooked an interestingly mushy soupy dinner. Considered the probability of leeches.

Notes:

Steve - How'd the mattress go second time around? Motorbikes were up early on Sunday morning. Apparently there are few places around Sydney to ride so they organise themselves to 'hit' a state forest for a day. Not legal in many respects. The police occasionally catch up with these groups, but the problem is that there are no facilities/area designated unless you are in a motorcross club and these aren't that type of folk. Thanks for coming down and for all the other bits and pieces.

Smokers - I get offered smokes by many people. I find it's like of a signal of trust and/or friendship. I don't smoke and so politely decline the offer, and most then realise that if I did smoke I'd probably be averaging about 15-20km/day rather than 40.

Shauno - You ought to spend a few days at Wombat Ridge and get some "DIY" skilling up... or just duck down to Beaudesert and get the AJ version. Too many eggs are bad for you - particularly in winter beds.

Wellers Staff - Someone fill me in on the reason(s) we are reshuffling some lower classes in the middle of the year.

Edith - I visited the village of Edith and found that there was little there at all. One place of note was the old school house which is now an accommodation venue. The bloke who owns it now rides to work in Katoomba every now and then, which I thought was quite an effort.