My last night on the road I stayed in a place called Stanwell Park, just north of Bully. I’d planned on camping back up the escarpment in Royal National Park but I couldn’t make it up the hill. 400 metres of elevation gain in just a few kilometres was too much for me and my tired legs. 14% is a difficult gradient without the extra weight I was carrying, this evening it was impossible, a sad moment.

Riding along the coast the road went up and down constantly, over lots of short, sharp hills. 40km of this totally sapped all the strength from my legs. I got to Bully and made the left turn to head back up the hill. Immediately I was presented with a sign saying 14% and it wasn’t kidding. 14% constant straight up to the face of the escarpment and then winding its way along, never easing – at least not the 2.5km I managed. Even in my little granny gear 34 x 32 – thats almost 1:1 – I couldn’t keep my legs turning over, and after lots of little digs to try to keep going I conceded defeat and coasted back down. It’s the first time since I started riding again that I had to get off on a hill and so close to the end.

Despite the days off in both Adelaide and Melbourne I’m just completely exhausted. More so than I’d ever felt in my life. Looking at myself in the mirror, I can clearly see it too. I kept following the coast trying to find somewhere to sleep. Every little bit of ground here is built up, there is only a very narrow stretch of land between the cliff behind and the water. Eventually I got to Stanwell Park, the last settlement before the road went into the Royal National Park. There was changing facilities at the green near the beach for the surfers with cold showers – no hot water unfortunately. Still it was nice to feel clean and get out of my wet clothes, there had been showers most of the day. I made it back to my picnic bench and forced myself to stay awake long enough to cook a meal, then fell asleep sitting at the table before I even tasted a bite. Sometime during the night the pain in my shoulder from sleeping hunched over the table woke me. I ate some of very very sticky pasta and went back to sleep.

140km left to get to Sydney. One day of riding, follow parallel to the highway and I’d get there by late afternoon all going well. After all this time the finish though wasn’t such an appealing prospect. Another day in the saddle seemed like a good idea, the traffic was getting heavy and I wanted to get away from it so I took some diversions. Instead I was heading east through lush greenery not north to Sydney but towards the coast and almost my doom!

About 100km from Sydney I nearly ended my ride (and other things) in spectacular style. I was riding down MacQuarie Pass towards Wollongong. The road was a damp, tight, twisty, a 500m drop in just a few kilometres – Fun but not ideal conditions for a heavily laden touring bike. Halfway down, barreling towards a corner at a speed far in excess of what was wise (the signs were indicating 15km/h) an articulated truck appeared filling the entire road. I grabbed on the brakes as hard as I dared to try and stop in time but there was no chance, too much debris on the shoulder of the road. I went as far left as I could, my bags rubbing up against the rock face and I still had to twist my body to just avoid the edge of the Trucks trailer catching my shoulder. It was that close! After letting the adrenaline levels return to normal I turned around and headed back up the hill a little to get a picture of the corner. Thereafter I took it calmly, keeping a firm grip on the brakes but still enjoying the descent.

The little villages and towns I passed through were quiet and pretty, and everything was very green. It almost felt like being in home, it was that lush. Barely a day ago I was riding through scrubby brown countryside suffering the effects of drought. Clearly at least this area was getting enough rain. Adding to the familiarity were the names of the places I passed through and the way they appeared. Sutton Forest, Moss Vale, Avoca, Fitzroy Falls all names that would fit right in at home. Not only that but the appearance of the towns, houses and shop fronts were decidedly un-Australian and very British.

Yass, Gunning, Goulburn, Marulan. The towns ticked by as I made my was over the lumpy roads, lots of long draggy climbs followed by eye watering descents. I’m being more cautious on the downhill parts, it’s only two days to Sydney and I don’t want to crash now. And by cautious I mean keeping it under 80km/h. Summer is fading now, it was pretty cold, and by the time I got to a place called Marulan in the evening it was spitting rain.

When I got to Marulan, I figured that as it could be my last night on the road before Sydney I could indulge myself in a treat. So I had a cooked meal instead of my own culinary creations. I’m not sure if it was any better but I didn’t have to cook it and I had a warm comfortable chair to sit in so happy days. I wanted to get properly clean so I went in search of shower facilities of which there were none. Darkness was drawing in and putting up a tent in the rain is just about as enjoyable as you imagine it to be. There was a Pub with rooms for $40 and feeling like I went to hand over the cash

As soon as I walked in the door, the barkeep yells “Well you took your fookin’ time gettin’ here mate!”. Every eye in the place was on me and a little bewildered I muttered something about it being hilly maybe? I didn’t recognise this bloke from Adam and I clearly thought he mistook me for someone else. Maybe if I had been less tired I’d have done better then just looking confused. He broke into laughter looking at me, he was just taking the piss, he passed me near Seymour a few days before on his way from Melbourne. Reckoned I was “the same fella because you’re wearing the same clothes and smell like it too!” I took a room and when I came back cleaned and somewhat revived he had a plate of chicken and fish with an assortment of dips waiting for me, on the house. I munched away watching some Super 14′s on the TV before hitting the sack early.

The towns of Albury in NSW and Wodonga in Victoria, are just separated by the ‘mighty’ Murray River. It may be the lifeblood of this part of the country but it seemed anything but mighty to me. The size of the river basin it has to draw water from is mind blowing yet in Ireland there are rivers barely a fraction of its length that are far bigger. Gives some idea of the depth of the problem, the lack of water is out here.

Crossing the river back into NSW the road became a little more fun to ride. The foothills of the Great Dividing Range start here so there were plenty of little climbs to tackle and the bigger hills are in sight off in the distance. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen any real hills. After being much cooler than usual the last two weeks the weather was warming up again, into the 30′s again.

The smaller, quiet roads eventually gave way to pure highway – the disadvantage of being in sparsely populated mountains, limited choice of roads. So alternative routes were few and far between – not having very detailed maps – I stuck to the highway. I stopped for the night at a place called Kyeamba Gap, a big parking area beside the highway. I pitched the tent behind some bushes, a nice grassy site which was rather comfortable. It’s just about the halfway point between Sydney and Melbourne so all night long there were lots of trucks stopping to change trailers. Rather than go the full distance the regular runs only go halfway and then they swap trailers and head back. I got all the details from some of the truckies. Its a properly time tabled scheduled, most trucks were not waiting longer than 30min before swapping with their colleagues. These guys meet here all the time, one guy had the grill, another had the sausages and bacon, someone else the salad and eggs and fifteen minutes after 4 random trucks pulled in we’re having a full on barbie!

Despite the constant stream of trucks all night long, as soon as I closed my eyes they disappeared. I’m a deep sleeper and after a long day with plenty of climbs I was in a comatose state about half a second after I closed my eyes.

A few days of apple picking was enough. The work was frustrating because the fruit was very small and as a result the money not too good. Not horrific like some shockers I’ve been told about but still not good. We had to strip all fruit from the trees but when most of the fruit you’re picking is not going into the bin and instead being dropped onto the ground it feels like you’re throwing money away. In addition to that nightly rain meant that we couldn’t start picking until the fruit dried to prevent bruising it. The total wage worked out at about $6 per hour. Back in town, KFC were offering $19 per hour.

I needed the money and could have stuck it out but I listened to the inner voice telling me to get the hell out of there! The only problem being that I was now in no position to head back to Melbourne and follow the coastal route to Sydney. The new plan that formulated was to get to Sydney, collect my things from my friend Ben in Brisbane and get back to Melbourne where I would find a job and earn vast amounts of sweet coin. Brilliant! So I put it in motion.

So out of Shepparton I went east through some pretty but not spectacular country. It’s still flat all around here, just a few little lumps to contend with along the way. After a day of solid riding I arrived at Wodonga quite late because of headwinds and pretty tired. I could have bush camped out of town but after doing some shopping it was completely dark and I wasn’t all that keen on trying to find a good spot in the dark. So I found a campsite on the edge of town. The lady running the place was crazier than Tom Cruise! She enjoyed a full on conversation with herself in between telling me the intricacies of the complications with her ‘dislocated back’! It was funny for a few minutes but the longer she went on the more scared I became, she was shouting at someone – that I couldn’t see or hear – to stop bothering her. The woman was completely deranged, but not so far gone that she didn’t take my money! Eventually she went away to answer a phone that wasn’t ringing – I couldn’t hear it but I was thankful that it rang nevertheless.

Passed the 17,000km mark since the journey began. Should end up close to 18,000km by the time I get to Sydney.

Next day I arrived in Shepparton and went about the task of trying to find a farm to work on. I called to the harvest agency office and they delightfully told me that there was no work! Quite contrary to the phone call yesterday morning. Your own transport is essential out here, there are no hostels and they don’t collect from the camping grounds like in some other places. Still after getting phone numbers of some possibilities I pestered one woman into letting me pitch the tent at the farm.

Out on the farm, there was an old house with a load of Sudanese workers staying there. The house was full so I set up tent behind the house. It was incredibly basic, there was an outside toilet but no running water so you had to take a suscepan with you to ‘flush’ it. No showers either but a bar of soap and a few saucepans of rainwater did the trick. Later that first night a camper van showed up with a few British backpackers. They were just the scouting party, once they had a job, they sent word back to Melbourne and the next day three more showed up. It made the work good fun. They had iPods and speakers so with a plentiful supply of batteries we had music all day long which was good.

Every evening at knocking off time we indulged in a little apple wars! There was so much fruit on the ground it was difficult to see the grass some places. And most of it was very soft, ideal for hitting people with. Not hard so that it doesn’t hurt when hit and the bonus of exploding, covering the victim in apply mush. Three days of that and I had a sore shoulder

After finally securing decent information about work I left Melbourne towards Shepparton about 200km straight north. It’s not on the planned route to Sydney but I need work and this is where I’ll secure the work to extend my visa so I can come back in the future and do the whole work/travel thing all over again. Victoria is pretty well populated so there were plenty of different routes out of the city, I was spoilt for choice.

The road north of Melbourne was the easiest exit from a city so far, I just latched onto the wheel of a big guy who came past me out for a training ride. He didn’t seem to mind me being there so I sucked his wheel for all it was worth. When he did finally turn around to go back I was out in the country away from all traffic. Using only my wits and the sun to guid me I kept going roughly North. To save some money I didn;t get a map of Victoria, I’ve only a photo of a map but it’s not too hard to make your way without one.

It was midday before I left Melbourne so it was a pretty short day in the saddle, just what I needed after 10 days in Melbourne. I passed through a few small towns and villages eventually ending up in Seymour as the sun dropped from view. Its a fairly nondescript place, and a few km outside town I camped where two motorways intersected. It was not nearly as bad as it sounds, there was a huge space between the junctions and you could barely hear the traffic. The ground was covered in tall green grass which is something of a novelty around here, but it made for a wonderfully comfortable bad. Strange the things that make you happy at the end of a day.

It was a nice ride, avoiding traffic and allowing me to put my brain on auto-pilot as I wound my way into the city. Eventually though the path ended dumping me abruptly onto a 6 lane monster. Back to reality, battling cars and trucks into the city. A few kms later though there were more cyce lanes and credit to Melbourne city planners, without any maps I got exactly where I needed to go, the cycleways are all really well signed and there are lots of them.

I got to my hostel on King St, a small affair as far a city hostels go pretty compact but comfortable. The first few days in Melbourne were fairly uneventful, I pretty much kept to myself and did a little relaxed exploring. I was only in town a few days but already was starting to like it. And there is still a Formula 1 race to look forward to!

For the last few days its been pretty cold and today the max was eighteen degrees. It’s been raining too so with the wind and rain it felt just about zero. Its the first time that I’ve been properly cold since I left home. Even so I was enjoying the ride towards Lavers Hill. A few km before the township there is a sign for a place called Melbas Gully. It is also refered to as the Jewel of the Otways which is a good enough reason for me to invstigate. I got down to the carpark, made some sandwiches and went exploring. I loved it there and wanted to stay the night, there are Gloworms here that are only visible in the dark. But it was raining almost constantly and I was soaked and cold to the core. I couldn’t get warm so just before the light went completely I packed and went to Lavers Hill for a shower and a warm pub to sit in.

As I was cooking my dinner I got chatting to a few people camping there too. I told them about the gloworms and convinced them to take a trip back to Melbas Gully that night. It was incredible, walking down a forest track in total darkness and suddenly you see what looks like thousands of stars on the bank beside you. It’s almost like looking up into the sky on a crystal clear night. Incredible!

Next day, it was pretty much downhill all the way to the coast, going fast is so much fun unfortunately the hills end all too soon. From there to Torquay was the best bike riding section of the road. It had plenty small lumps, lots of twists and turns and a good smooth surface with a decent shoulder to ride on. I stopped for the night at a beach outside Anglesea. Another couple stopped there for the night in their camper and I was treated to tea with biscuits and fruit smothered in custard in exchange for some tales from the road. Next day I continued along the road towards Torquay. I made the short detour to Bells Beach – surfers mecca – where preparations were underway for the Ripcurl Pro surf competition. There were a few people on the water but the waves were pretty tame that morning.

I’ve had the pleasure of riding along the California One down the coast from San Francisco to Santa Barbara. Like the Great Ocean Road it too was built right along the coastal cliffs but in the 30′s if I remember. It is amazing and not nearly as busy. The Great Ocean Road is amazing but California One is too. So if you’re ever there check it out. You’ll be glad you did. It was my first experience of bike touring and the one that planted the seeds for this adventure