Who Needs Luck? ~ AUS Post #5

November 13-15

Our first up close look at Australia’s Man Fern - MAN what a FERN!

To Penguin

Now heading West, we would always be facing a headwind, and leaving Devonport it was particularly relentless. After attempting to find the cheapest ATM to use our Wise card, we rejoined the amazing network of coastal bike paths weaving in and out of country hillsides and down into coastal neighborhoods on our way to Penguin.

A millionaire view for less than $20 a night!

Due to another late start (thanks to the Devonport bakery) we arrived at our next Caravan park by the sea, again, just before dusk, after 27 miles. As we pulled up to the tent area, we met a couple bike-packers from California, now living in Hobart. They had just finished a bike-packing loop in the West and offered us one of their well-earned beers. We spent what was left of twilight talking bikes, trails and travels.

Edison’s Memorial

The next morning, according to the US time zone, was Edison’s memorial day. No contest - we were taking a rest day in his honor. And Penguin turned out to be the perfect spot, a small quiet coastal town that just happened to have a brewery. Since we had yet to have a proper Australian craft beer on tap, the timing was perfect to toast Edison with a Stout and a Brown ale. The setting was picturesque, a deck just above the bike path, looking out over the sea, next to a strip of sandy beach, under a bright blue sky. Nothing could be more idyllic. After an afternoon wandering the town, we stopped to pick up a celebratory dinner of Aussie steaks, potatoes and spinach all made on our amazing Trangia grill/stove tent-side at our beach front camp. It wasn’t Lake Crescent, but we still think Edison would approve.

Hills, Glorious Hills

Somehow early starts were evading us with the exception of catching the ferry. We find ourselves not rousing until close to 9 and then the morning slips away with breakfast and packing. It’s gone about noon, before our wheels are pointed toward our chosen route.

Today Nivaun was itching to get into the forest after days of riding along the coast, so we were taking a back “roads” route over to a campground, Pioneer Park. Just two blocks off the main coastal road and bike path in Penguin, hillsides surrounded the town. And we discovered, they were never ending as soon as we turned the first corner.

From the moment we landed in Melbourne and unboxed all the gear we had brought, I could not shake the underlying feeling that I would never make it off the flats and up any kind of hill, paved or gravel, with all that we decided to bring. Hoping that when the first hill presented itself, magically somehow the legs would kick in, and the patience meter would extend, with the sighting of each plateau. Thus far, we had yet to leave the coast and what lie ahead was another kettle of fish entirely.

We successfully rode the first rise out of Penguin and just minutes later, the grade sharply increased and wound around the corner. We had already met our match and we weren’t even a mile out of town. We leaned a bike against the guard rail and began the methodical push-a-bike, one at a time, up to the next plateau.

Our very first climb out of Penguin was no Joke!

For the first few miles, the distances between push-a-bike were reasonable and our confidence increased that we might make our destination before dusk this time.

And then we reached our final turn, where the street sign ominously read “No Through Road”. A few meters ahead the road turned to gravel leaving the rolling country side hills, dotted with sprawling farms, and headed into the canopy of Eucalyptus trees toward Mt. Dial Recreational Area.

We had arrived at the edge of the forest.

Bush Life 101

Conquering my next angst of being able to ride gravel or any rough terrain we were cruising up and down undulating gravel track enjoying the dramatic change of scenery, delighting in the canopy’s shade, and increasingly, strangely, feeling more at home. Right about as my late afternoon hunger began to kick-in, Nivaun pulled over to the side at what looked to be just a grassy pullout. What we found there was a lean-to crafted from branches and man-fern fronds with a stone fire ring neatly arranged just outside the opening. It looked like something straight out of the countless You-Tube videos we had watched of traditional Aussies out bush camping.

We pulled up alongside for a snack break as our excitement grew about what else we might discover further up the track. Around the corner we passed a car park/pullout and continued on riding further up until we reached a cross-road with signs pointing both right and left.

For a moment we thought turning left was our intended route, and then with a swing of the compass on our Apps, realized it was right. Just then a flat-bed pickup truck rounded the corner heading right, giving us some confidence in our chosen direction. Although, as we rounded the corner, the wide track we had been following began to take on a rougher look and headed up again.

So far we were both managing to make the inclines or push our bikes independently, even though the track was clearly less traveled than the one we had been on. Only a few minutes later, we spotted the same truck that had passed us before, was now backing up and coming around to pass us once again.

This time he slowed to say hello and almost instantly we began a free-flowing exchange of shared feelings about the incredible landscape surrounding us. He was raised in Tassie, went to Melbourne for a short time for career-reasons, and ultimately decided there is no better place to live than here. We had to agree wholeheartedly after enduring the city experience and feeling relieved to have finally left it behind.

He assured us that if we decided to “pull-up” anywhere along the track we would have “no drama”. After suggesting a couple spots that might work for us, we parted ways on solid hand shakes.

It wasn’t long until we reached the first pull out he had described. We were at the highest point on the track at Mt. Duncan where another walking track went further up to the summit. The track we were following went sharply down, and the “gravel/dirt road” we had been fortunate enough to ride was gone.

In its place was what looked like a river bed washout with foot-deep craters weaving back and forth full of varied sizes of rocks. This was most certainly not rideable and barely navigable with a full loaded bike. The decision to stay a night in the forest had been made without our input. Affirming between us that we did have enough water to last us through the last few kilometers tomorrow, Nivaun began to scope out a flat spot large enough for our tent and hidden from view although we knew the chance of anyone coming by from either direction was slim to none.

Part way down the river bed track, Nivaun found a perfectly sized flat spot in a grove of man-fern, next to where a creek was supposed to be according to the map, but at this point was non-existent. Brakes screeching we hike-a-biked down to our exit point and tucked up into the forest. It was a magical feeling to have such a prehistoric looking canopy just above us. We carefully inspected the ground around us, full of leaf litter and twigs of varying sizes. Nothing moved or showed signs of life, so we began setting up our first camp in the Australian forest. Even out of our element, nothing can take away the sense of feeling at home in the wild. We decided on a no-water required dinner of hand-held pizzas before sliding into our cozy bed. It was a chilly but most pleasant evening and a very good night sleep.

Our first camp under a tree canopy like none other we had experienced - yet it still feels like home.

We awoke to an amazing chorus of bird song, more than anywhere else we had been. Now the sounds were even more varied, including song birds, along with others we now recognized, and more we were hearing for the first time. After our breakfast of “Bush Food” Muesli with banana and a shared coffee, we confidently packed up knowing after a night’s rest, it was all downhill according to our Apps. With only 4-ish miles to go, we could easily be at Pioneer Park, to finally, make camp before dusk.

Australian LUCK

After successfully navigating the rest of the downhill washout that we had seen from the summit the day before, it looked as though the track was rideable up to the next bend. And then it began…what seemed to be a never ending “cycle”. Nivaun had mistakenly said, he was glad that we didn’t have to push up the first wash-out, and then, of course, that is exactly what we had to do…seemingly for the last 4 miles.

We would ride a few feet and either get off to go down a washout or push-up a washout. Somehow, we were dropping in elevation, at the same time we were going up and down, up and down. We began to wonder, again, if we we’re going to make it to camp before dusk. In almost two hours, we had barely covered 1km.

As we rode another few feet and found an even worse up hill washout that continued on around the corner, we were exasperated. If we had been able to find a running stream to setup camp nearby, we would have easily done so, just to get back to enjoying our surroundings, but we had found nothing suitable thus far. In disbelief that this would ever end, I started the methodical swing of my leg over the bike, while Nivaun got in position to push from behind, but instead, I burst out laughing. Lying on the ground right next to my back tire was a dust-filled brick with the imprint of the word “LUCK". We guessed this must be some Australian’s attempt at providing humor for those crazy enough to have reached this point.

But indeed, it was foretelling. As we rounded the bend, it looked like it might indeed be our final push-a-bike. There was a clearing at the top, signs of a fence post with an open gate and a glimpse of a farmer’s field through the trees on our left. We had reached the end of the torturous track and in front of us lay a descent on well-traveled gravel track. Finally, we had 1.2km to reach the campground.

We cruised down into open farm country once again, passing by what looked like “cow heaven”, amazingly green rolling fields, with ponds lined in cattails at the edge of the forest. I dont think the cows would disagree at least for the short-term.

If I was a cow, I would want to live here…

After turning on to pavement, Nivaun spotted our first Echidna rooting through the grass just off the road and was able to get a quick photo before he waddled into the brush.

Echidna sighting at the edge of the road - stay safe lil’ guy!

Amazingly, we turned into the almost empty campground, just after 2pm to pick out a spot and finally relax.