Monthly Archives: October 2014

Day 293

There was no sleepiness from waking up at sunrise, nor sore legs from endless hills, nor fears of crazed motorists for today we would reach our first Australian climbing destination and get to spend one whole month in the same spot. Oh how to sweet to have regular food and to trade the redundancy of rotating pedals for absorbing rock climbing!

For the last leg of our journey we chose yet more back roads. Immediately we were met by some extremely steep climbs of 17% followed by a downhill and more of the same. Climbing up another 15% grade my chain came off my lowest gear in between the sprockets locking the rear wheel. We stopped and I fixed it, then stopped again and just as we neared the top, we stopped a third time. To my dismay I realized that my hangar had snapped and my rear derailleur was just hanging on my chain. This is the only part I didn’t bring an extra of. These derailleur hangars are made to break and are what is known as a sacrificial part, breaking in order to save other more expensive parts and to prevent injury.

After I finished cursing our fate and began devising a temporary fix using zip ties, a woman appeared in a golf cart. She said that maybe her husband would have a part that we could use. Her husband, Martin from Holland, and a life long bike rider knew exactly what we needed and took the hangars off his own bike. And although it wasn’t the right part, it was good enough so I could change into my lower gears and would get us to our destination. We thanked him profusely and promised to mail the part back once we found a replacement. His wife had told us that the roads continue to be hilly and we were only 50% of the way through. We debated turning back and taking the highway, but then decided to stick to the planned route. Thankfully Martin’s wife was wrong and we were at the top of the last big hill before the road flattened out.

Exhausted but elated at our good fortune we reached the Glasshouse Mountains Campground where we would get our first long rest. When we arrived we met a local guy named Warren who welcomed us in true Aussie fashion, with cold beers. We can’t say enough about the generosity of others and for two cynical city people this has been an instructive trip.

Day 292

Cher’s knee is feeling better but we decided not to push it even though the Glass House Mountains are only 98 km away. Taking a winding route we had a pleasant day. Only one motorists blared their horn at us. We’re not sure if this is just because we are trikes and have a wider profile than a 2 wheeled bike or if motorists around big cities are more aggressive. Most likely it’s a combination of the two. However, we do see motorists we always put one wheel in the dirt and keep the other on the road, so we take up about the same space and we have the benefit that we don’t swerve. Not having to balance we are able to hold a perfectly straight line easily. Perhaps the world isn’t read for trikes… for adults…on highways.

Nevertheless our day was pleasant and cool. Brown’s Creek Rest Area just outside of Yandina was grassy, had taps with potable water and a composting toilet. One of many free rest areas in the more rural areas there were several caravans and a couple of long-term residents, who appeared to be modern-day gypsies camping in the area. While Cher and I took our hobo shower at the taps, by soaping up in our running shorts and then rinsing with our water bottles we met a man by the name of Cole.

Slightly tipsy Cole informed us that he was celebrating the completion of cooking school and was heading off to Southeast Asia to learn about the cuisine there. Proudly 58 years old, he announced that he had raised 3 responsible level-headed children and that the secret was, no secrets. No conversations were taboo. That’s it. He plans on opening a retreat where urbanites can get away. Cole gave us the whole run down and a great talker we knew his life story before bed time, which is just after the sun sets. It’s going to be strange returning to the real world where we don’t have the advantage of riding trikes to meet so many people. In sum the trikes have probably drawn ten times more positive attention than negative.

We do hope though that people learn to share the road with non motorized vehicles. Where do they need to be that they can’t let off the accelerator for 30 seconds? That is an idealistic question, because really it’s asking that people be less self-centered. We are all to some extent, myself included. Maybe an acceptance of cycling will also signify that a Utopian society is on the horizon.

Day 291

On account of our late start, Cher’s knee, and our general lack of enthusiasm, we stayed another day to rest. I befriended an old woman who was trying to make sense out of the recent loss of her husband. She was quite given to alternative medicine and the mystical. It’s always interesting how people try to make sense out of the world. Prepackaged and purchased answers are never more than placebo at best. However, she was also writing a book as a guide to widowhood and she asked Cher and I read it and to give her some advice. She was already trying to make sense out of her loss through her travels and her book and we weren’t sure what to say. We told her the truth, that she was quite brave to travel alone and to share her painful lessons with others and that her book was sure to help.

Going to sleep that night, without saying a word, we resolved to make it safely to Glasshouse, and we held on just a little longer before falling asleep.

Day 290

Taking advantage of our proximity to town we ran errands. We closed our Australian bank account we opened when we were having difficulty transferring funds from our HK to our US account, which issue was resolved. We also stopped to buy some groceries and later climbed out of town fully loaded up 15% grades. Cher’s already sore knee was in agony and we hadn’t gone more than 5 km.

Once again we retreated from the main road along a winding back road, called Old Noosa. There was no center line and after 10 km we passed a man cutting trees and he warned us that “rat bags” have a tendency to cut the corners into oncoming traffic. We thanked him and cautiously continued on. Our route took us continuously up and down hills and around bends and we were surprised to see that the speed limit was listed as 100 kph. Ten minutes later a man in his 70’s stopped waved us down.

With his wife standing by looking nervous, he began to tell us that she had passed us and had to yank the steering wheel when she came over the top of the hill. He recommended bigger brighter flags, and they should stand higher, and we needed flashing lights, and we really shouldn’t be on this road. His wife was only going 80 kph and the speed limit is 100. Although he meant well, we didn’t have time for a long lecture. So resisted to urge to tell him that speed limits aren’t a target, and that this narrow road, which sometimes wasn’t paved at all didn’t warrant even 50 kph never mind 100. I also didn’t point out that the both of them were well over 70 years old, and that so far it was this age group who always failed to see us. Instead I politely asked if he had a pickup truck, and if so would like to give us a lift. He said he didn’t so I told him that we had to get on our way. It was already after 3pm and we didn’t want to drive in the dark.

We stopped early at a free rest area just outside of Matilda behind a Greyhound gas station and were pleased to find a large pond filled with all types of water fowl. Camp was set underneath 3 low large palms and we found hot showers at the gas station. With the sounds of birds settling in for the night we both agreed that continuing on the highway past Brisbane would not be wise, but agreed that since we were only 100 km away we would finish our cycling to Glass House Mountains where we would climb for the first time in 5 months.