My alarm was beeping. My eyes opened. I saw grapes. My hand reached out and plucked a grape, which I quickly ate. I turned off the alarm. It was Day Ten.
The fact is, I actually did some significant damage to myself back in 2018 by not listening to my body and pushing through, and I essentially needed 6 months off my bike after I finished. I think I had done most of the damage before I hit Adelaide, but what it meant was that then I was in a lot of pain for the rest of the ride, and couldn’t ride hard. There were several people in front of me who I would have dearly loved to catch, but I just couldn’t. Because of that, I had come into this edition with a plan. I admit that it wasn’t a particularly complicated plan, but I’d managed to stick to it fairly well up to this point. According to the plan though, today was a day for a change.
Part one of the plan was to just start at a comfortable pace, not worry about where anyone else was, listen to my body and make sure I was settled into the ride and had my position on the bike dialled in and everything feeling good. Basically, take care of myself. I was going to do that until Adelaide, then make sure that I woke up in Adelaide after a good night’s sleep, with no major body or bike issues, ready to ride. Part two of the plan started from Adelaide, and it was to go just as fast as I possibly could, catch everyone in front of me, and win the race. I was in Adelaide. It was time for part two.
Now there may be some people who read the above, and think to themselves “this guy has the wrong attitude – it isn’t even a race, the name has been changed from Indian Pacific Wheel Race to Indian Pacific Wheel Ride, and everyone else is just enjoying the companionship. Why doesn’t he just do that? To those people, I have a simple answer – it’s because I like to race. In terms of the name, it’s just a name. Now there are plenty of people who do IndyPac for the challenge, and there are plenty who are happy to take their time and enjoy the scenery. Right now the tandem TwoUp is approaching Balladonia, having covered a little over 900km in seven and a bit days. They came into it with a touring mindset, and they’re stopping to see the sights and enjoy the trip, and it sounds fantastic. I love that sort of trip as well, and I would love to do it like that, especially with my Number One Supporter, but it wasn’t what I had come here for. And in terms of the other riders in 2021, several of them would have started with a plan to just tour, but I would be very surprised if the significant majority hadn’t at least considered what they would need to do to be first to Sydney. I truly believe that at some point, for almost all of us, it was a race. And now it was time for me to move into race mode.
I was in a hotel on the outskirts of Adelaide. I’d eaten well the night before, I’d had a good night’s sleep, and I had a good breakfast ready to go. I wasn’t far off the route, but I wanted to get moving quick because it was a Monday morning, and I didn’t want to have to battle peak hour traffic. I packed quickly, and got out on the bike, ready for a big day.
I had around 3km of gentle climbing in which to warm up, and then I would hit the Greenhill Road climb. This one is actually a proper climb – according to the Tour Down under website it is “one of the most notorious climbs in Adelaide”, 7.2km long and averaging 6.5%, and for IPWR the route turns left at the top and continues to climb along Mount Lofty Summit Road.
The first 3km was fine, and starting the climb I was happy to see that almost all of the traffic was headed in the other direction. Of course, there was one idiot going the same way as me who couldn’t afford to wait the 20 seconds until we got to a wider section of road, and instead overtook me around a blind corner, nearly causing an accident, but in general the climb was great and the traffic wasn’t a problem.
Coming onto a straighter section there were a few cars parked beside the road, and there was a guy next to one of them cheering me on. I slowed down enough to get his name (which I may possibly have remembered correctly – hi, Ashley) but kept on pedalling. The traffic was still light enough that I was remembering individual cars – when a Patrol went past me and then was pulled up off the road a few hundred meters around the corner I recognised it as one of the cars that had been stopped near Ashley and I also thought it had passed me earlier in the morning. When it went past me a third time I was thinking that it was unlucky for that guy that he’d chosen that time for his errand run up the hill. To be frank, bikes are slower than cars up steep hills, and I was slowing the traffic down as I climbed the hill, and I must have slowed this bloke down three times. I always try to ride considerately though, and where there was room I was always pulling over to let the traffic behind me pass, so I was doing no worse than a slow truck or a caravan. I kept riding, making sure to let the traffic pass whenever possible.
I was feeling pretty pleased that I had paused long enough to say hi to Ashley, having failed to greet my first dot-watchers in Wilmington. The fact is the dot-watchers are a huge part of IPWR, and all the riders appreciate them hugely, so when I saw a cyclist up ahead of me clearly waiting for me I thought be sure to have a bit of a chat.
In addition to having very probably been in some of the same classes as me at uni, Alison turned out to be an overlander herself. The Stirling Roadrunner had lined up the previous year and made it as far as Southern Cross before the borders shut and she was forced to back-track. Southern Cross is a fair way out of Freemantle, and seeing her here on her home climbs she was obviously a strong rider, as she danced her way up the hill beside me. She is also deeply, deeply evil. As I mentioned, the climb I was on was a proper climb, going all the way up into the hills to meet Mount Lofty Summit Road. Where it doesn’t go though is to Mount Lofty Summit. The route goes right past the summit, saving that little bit of climbing. With Alison whispering in my ear though I somehow found my bike turning left from the summit road, and heading for the summit itself. Now it isn’t much more climbing, and it isn’t a long detour, but the fact that she was able to persuade me to include any extra height and distance in my trip says something about her persuasive powers.
After the summit there was a nice descent most of the way into Hahndorf, and just on the outskirts of Hahndorf was the most glorious thing – a fruit shop! Fruit shops are a rare thing across the Nullarbor, so seeing a whole huge shop dedicated just to fruit and veg was too much for me today, and I had to stop and load up. While there I had a good chat with a couple on e-bikes (a great idea, I will have to get one someday) and then headed back out onto the road.
As I rode, I noticed that same Patrol that I had seen on Greenhills road. At some point I realised that the guy driving it was stopping, and taking my picture as I went past. At some point I slowed down to talk to him, but he told me not to stop, I was doing great. He wasn’t actually out running his errands, he had come out just to take pictures of me! I was leading the IPWR, and people were coming out to cheer me on as I rode, and to take my photo! I was a celebrity! It might only last a short while, but I was famous!
Rounding a corner I spotted a young dot-watcher sitting on a bus-stop bench and staring intently at his phone (presumably checking Maprogress). As I rounded the corner he looked up and saw me. His face lit up and he jumped up with an excited expression and waved. Then he suddenly became self-conscious in the way that teenagers do, dropped his hand and shuffled back from the curb, staring at his feet. He couldn’t have been more than about 15 years old. I had to stop. I pulled up.
“Hi” I said.
“Hi” he replied.
“How are you going?”
“Good, how about you?”
“Oh yeah, a few aches and niggles, but really feeling pretty good, considering”
“Cool”
He was pretty hesitant. In my mind, I replayed the moment I had spotted him. I hadn’t been watching him that closely, because there was a bit of traffic on the road, and a bus had been passing me at just that moment, so I was partially concentrating on holding a straight line.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“Nope”
“You’re waiting for a bus, aren’t you?”
“Yep”
“And you thought that was your bus, but it wasn’t, right?”
“Yep”
“Cool, hope your bus gets here soon”
“Enjoy your ride”
I rode on. I was not famous.
Happily, it wasn’t long until I saw the guy in the Patrol again, still taking pictures of me, which slightly softened the damage to my pride!
I pedalled on a little longer, and approaching Murray Bridge I saw my friend with the Patrol again. Except that wasn’t the Patrol he was standing beside, it was a Landcruiser. Had he swapped cars? But no, there was the Patrol, now with a different bloke beside it and taking my photo, and this bloke looked familiar.
I crossed the bridge, and pulled into the servo (DDD, you will need to know that word when you get here!) for some food, and as I did so the Patrol pulled up. This time I talked to the guy, who turned out to be David (David V Tolcher in the facebook dotwatcher group, if you want to see the pics he got), in the area to visit his brother and thought he would get some good pictures while he was there. We had a very pleasant chat and just as he was heading down the road the Landcruiser pulled up, and this time I definitely recognised the driver. It was “Caveman” Chris, one of the legends of IPWR. Caveman had started every previous edition, and had finished all of them but the last one, which got shut down by border closures. As I write this I’m pretty sure he is sat in the roadhouse at Nundroo, and based on my experiences he may be thinking to himself that he should have pushed on that bit further to Penong… But it is great to see him having a great ride this year. We stood and chatted for much too long, before he suggested I’d better get riding, and said he would actually join me a bit further down the road.
I headed off and it wasn’t long until I recognised David’s brother’s place – it’s the place with the coloured bikes out front. Stopped for one more quick chat during which David told me that he’d heard some descendants of the great Hubert Opperman were living in Mount Gambier and were keen dot watchers, so I might see them down there. Opperman is still a legend in Australian cycling, and had completed the journey from Freemantle to Sydney in thirteen days back in 1937. He did take a slightly more direct route than I was taking, but he also did a whole lot of it on unsealed roads, so that is a hugely impressive time. The idea that his descendants were watching my dot was enough to finally soothe my pride!
Continuing through Tailem Bend I was treated to a big cheer from the kids of Tailem Bend Primary who were lined up along the fence as I came past (thanks guys), and around the corner Caveman Chris was waiting for me with his bike, ready to join me for a spot along the Coorong.
It was great to have a bit of company and someone to talk to, and we were belting along at a fair clip, despite the strong and gusty winds that the Coorong is known for. Eventually Caveman had to go back to where he had left his car, but the company was much appreciated!
From that point I headed down to Meningie, where I was disappointingly just too late to get to the bakery before it closed. I headed on to the servo on the way out of town, but the food there looked so disappointing that I broke one of my fundamental rules, and backtracked to get to the supermarket. Desperate times…
The route from there followed along a beautiful stretch of coast, and other than stopping to take far too many pictures of the sunset I had a great ride.
Coming into Kingston it was approaching midnight, but I went straight to the servo that I knew would be open. My plan was to stock up on supplies and then ride a few km out of town before camping beside the road. It was pretty cold though and I was taking my time browsing the shelves and eating some of what I had already bought. As I did, I heard the people at the counter discussing me with the one other customer who had come in. Basically, they were saying they had no idea who I was but I had a lot of gear on my bike and was eating a lot. The guy came over to talk to me.
“Where have you ridden from?”
“Today? Adelaide.”
“Where did you start from?”
“Freemantle”
“Freemantle?! Where are you riding to?”
“Sydney”
“Sydney! Are you doing it on your own?”
“There’s a bunch of other blokes doing it, but they’re not here yet”
“Wow, how long have you been riding?”
“This is day 10”
“And where do you sleep?”
“Wherever… Sometimes hotels, but sometimes just beside the road”
“Where are you sleeping tonight?”
“Well everything is closed, so I’ll just roll down the road a bit and sleep in a ditch somewhere I guess.”
“Bullshit! I own the pub. If you’ve just ridden from Freemantle, I’ll give you a room to sleep in! Come on!”
I grabbed my stuff, jumped on my bike, and followed Tom to The Crown, where he set me up with a room for the night. I actually turned down his offer of a beer, I thought if I had it, I’d just fall asleep at the bar!
For all those riders this year though, if you stop at The Crown in Kingston make sure you say thanks to Tom from me!
As I lay in bed, I realised it hadn’t been the day I had planned at all. My switch to racing pace simply hadn’t happened. I had taken long breaks to talk to people, and to enjoy the sights, and just to enjoy the experience. I had made decent progress, but it wasn’t what I had planned. On the other hand, I was feeling good, I’d had a great day, and I was still well in the lead. Maybe the race pace thing would have to wait for another year. I’d see how I felt tomorrow.