July 8, 2015
The last days before Melbourne: It was absolutely imperative that I buy a cuddly toy kangaroo
On the 6th I cycled south of the Grampian mountain range, the peaks of which were visible to my left for most of the day. At the town of Dunkeld I had a brief bit of human interaction to interrupt my usual sheep-scaring fiesta, when a man named Rob offered to buy me an orange juice. He’d done a bicycle tour himself in Europe twenty years ago. “It was 3,000 kilometres” he beamed, proudly. “It was a really long trip.” Then he looked at me and asked: “How far have you come by the way?”
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From Dunkeld the main road became busier, so I found smaller back roads which were an absolute delight to cycle. The next morning I reached Skipton, and was intrigued by a sign pointing to a ‘platypus viewing platform’ in the centre of town. I followed the signs through a park and down to a little creek, where there was indeed a platform, and an information board that proudly announced that platypuses could be viewed right here. Unfortunately there weren’t presently any platypuses on view. I knew that seeing one would probably require a bit of time and patience, and seeing as I had neither commodity to spare I didn’t stay longer than it took to eat my peanut butter and jam sandwiches, which sadly wasn’t enough time for any platypuses to show themselves. Although I was on schedule, I was certainly still going to be cutting it a bit fine and I quickly hit the road again.
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Except I didn’t need to hit the road for very long, because from Skipton I was able to take a rail-trail all of the way to the big town of Ballarat. As a former railway line converted into a multi-use path it was simply delightful cycling, through fields and forest alike on a nice gentle gradient away from the traffic. As a result on the evening of the 7th I had an idyllic camping spot just off this trail.
The morning of the 8th I arrived into Ballarat, now just one hundred kilometres from my goal of Melbourne airport, and with 24 hours left on the countdown. My long journey was almost at an end. I stopped at the Woolworths on the edge of town to stock up on food, outside of which a small boy passed me and my bike and cried out “Mommy, is that the mailman?” A little later I saw the mailman, who to be fair was dressed all in yellow and I had big wide panniers, and I could forgive the child his mistake, though it should be noted that Australia is expansive enough for the mailman to need an engine on his bike.
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Also in Ballarat I saw an Aldi store, and regretted having bought all my food in Woolworths. This was the first time I had seen Aldi since Europe, and it somehow was a comforting sight, reaffirming that I really had travelled far enough east to have arrived back in the west. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough time to go in just for kicks, and the Aldi experience would have to wait. But I did have time to run around the shops in the centre of Ballarat, for I had decided that it was absolutely imperative that I buy a cuddly toy kangaroo. I found just the thing in a cheap sell-everything store and was very happy.
With all the excitement of Ballarat time got away from me a little, and I realised that there was still a chance that I might not make it. Worried, I raced on, sticking to quiet back roads as I climbed up more hills as fast as I could. Then, with sunlight beginning to fade I crested a hill and saw for the first time, cast against an orange sky, the distant outline of the skyscrapers of Melbourne city. It was a glorious moment, enjoyed only fleetingly, before I tumbled once again downhill into a valley. I pushed my luck a little too far with that descent, and suddenly I was in the busy built-up area of Bacchus Marsh with night coming in. Now I had nothing for it, with nowhere to camp I had to push on in the dark and as luck would have it my onward route required cycling on an extremely busy road that connected to the motorway. There was no shoulder so I cycled on the grass verge as the headlights of tired drivers sped past. The road was called the Avenue of Honour, and came lined with elm trees, planted every few metres to commemorate local people who had enlisted in the First World War. A nice touch, but for me it was more like the Avenue of Horror, as I had to swerve around each of these trees in the dark whilst simultaneously trying to avoid being taken out by impatient motorists.
Finally I reached the end of that scary road and just before the motorway junction found an empty park where I stopped and was able to camp for the last time before Melbourne. I was within reach now. It felt so close. My long journey, my long wait, almost at an end. And for those of you waiting for the big twist to the movie plot that I promised you, well, thank you for your patience, and hold onto your hats, because here it comes…
06/07/15 – 129km
07/07/15 – 92km
08/06/15 – 94km
Today's ride: 315 km (196 miles)
Total: 44,641 km (27,722 miles)
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