June 22, 2015
Have I ever told you about the time I cycled 250 kilometres in one day: And then got hit by a kangaroo
Now I know I mentioned this a few times already, and I’m really not one to bear a grudge, but once again I’d like to point out that before I began my ride across Australia every single Australian told me that I would have westerly winds pushing me all the way. It had consequently been just a teensy bit disheartening to instead have easterly winds rebuffing my efforts every single sodding day. But on the 22nd of June, my SIXTEENTH morning in the country, I finally woke up to a tailwind. And what a tailwind. It was a tailwind to write home about. A tailwind that should go down in cycle touring folklore. A tailwind that would ultimately carry me to a personal best ever distance and a date with destiny.
Early in the morning I stopped at two more lookout points and, whilst the view of the cliffs was spectacular, I dared not stop for longer than it took to stuff a packet of cookies into my gob, lest the wind should die down whilst I was distracted. I finally had this wind, this wind that I’d waited so long for, and I was damned if I was going to waste it now. I rode and rode, and almost didn’t stop again, just enjoyed being carried along. Setting the tone for this record breaking day I cycled one hundred kilometres in what was surely my fastest ever time of four hours and 55 minutes.
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In the middle part of the day the flies once again became a pain. Usually they only irritated me during my breaks, and sat harmlessly on my back whilst I cycled, but today they were carried along on the wind just as swiftly as I was, and it was easy for them to keep up. In fact they seemed to want to get out of the wind, and considered landing on my face to be their best tactic. I didn’t like this very much of course, and my tangerine hockey mask was brought out and worn for the first time whilst I was actually cycling along. This also had the additional benefit of greatly reducing the number of Grey Nomads that waved at me.
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That four hours and 55 minutes personal best record time for cycling a hundred kilometres was, I thought, quite a good one, although as it turned out it was a record that only stood for four hours and 48 minutes. The second century brought the day to a close, and darkness began to descend once more on the Nullarbor. I’d ridden 200 kilometres, a feat I take no credit for as it really did belong to the wind. But now, even with that mighty wind dwindling and the route becoming more hilly, I still eyed another record. My best ever distance for a day was 227 kilometres, and I was going to smash it.
It was a beautiful clear night. A blanket of stars shone overhead, and a crescent moon descended gradually in the east behind me as the hours passed. There was almost no traffic. There never was at night out here. Just the occasional road-train, one every ten or fifteen minutes, and I’d hear it from a mile off, and get out of the road. It would roar past and on into the distance, and then silence would return - just me and the empty night, and a goal of reaching 250 kilometres. An achievement that stated, not only was I going to make Melbourne, but also about what might have been possible if only I’d had such winds all the way across.
The last few kilometres rolled by and I was so buoyed up I even thought about keeping on going, but it was late and I was tired, and I would still need to get up and cycle in the morning. As my cycle computer clicked over to 250 I congratulated myself on a job well done, (and said a little word of thanks to the wind gods too) and decided it was time to call it a night.
I wheeled along slowly, peering into the darkness at the side of the road, trying to look for a place to camp. By now the moon had set and it was pitch dark, and I struggled to see the outline of trees to work out if there was space to get in and put my tent. I was hardly moving at all, inching along, trying to see in the dark. Then suddenly I heard the noise of a large animal moving. It was very close, and it seemed panicked by me. I had visions of those kangaroos flying across the road from a few nights before and I instinctively shouted loudly, aggressively, to let the animal know where I was, and as a warning to stay away from me. Then, before I knew what was happening, I saw the creature leaping out of the darkness and straight towards me. It was as if it was trying to hit me. There was nothing I could do to avoid it. I braced for impact.
To say that my life flashed before my eyes would be a lie. If anything flashed before my eyes it was a kangaroo with an extremely poor sense of direction. If I had a thought before our collision it was ‘I can’t believe this is actually going to f*cking happen.’ In reality I didn’t have time for any of that. The kangaroo’s kamikaze leap brought it down directly to my left. Then there was that moment, you may be familiar with it, when two people are about to bump into one another, when they both try to avoid it, but know that they can’t - except in this case one of the two people was a kangaroo, which made it weird. Then we collided.
At the moment of impact I leant in towards the creature, and I fell towards it, and I actually rolled over the top of it on my way to the tarmac. By good fortune this action threw me to safety, clear of beast and bike, and somehow my bicycle actually landed on top of the kangaroo, trapping it beneath it. I was now prone on the cold road, the smell of animal hide in my nostrils, as my assailant struggled wildly, panic-stricken next to me. I was in shock. Things had just gone from the surreal to the ridiculous. There I was in the dark, taken out by a kangaroo that was now trapped by my own bike. What to do? Well, first of all I said sh!t, and then I remember thinking that I hoped the kangaroo was alright and that I should probably do something to help it. But before I could do anything it kicked itself free and before we could exchange insurance details it was away across the road and off into the bush. I remained seated on the road. My bike lay next to me, horizontal, wheel spinning, lights still flashing. Classic hit-and-run.
After a few moments I gathered my composure and picked myself and my bike up off the road. Amazingly enough there was no apparent damage to either of us, and I was able to walk off to a suitable point and pitch my tent. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t really comprehend or process what the hell had just happened. I’d just cycled 250 kilometres in one day, and then been hit by a kangaroo. ‘They’re never going to believe this one’ I thought.
Distance completed: 1911km
Distance to go: 1899km
Days to go: 16.5
Average distance required: 115.1km/day
Today's ride: 250 km (155 miles)
Total: 42,792 km (26,574 miles)
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