The First Day Is Always The Hardest

March 17, 2024

Gawler to Tanunda

I had to be in McLarenvale on 25th March, which meant that I started my ride in the Barossa, trending south with the slight benefit of a downhill trend and the definite disadvantage of traveling into the prevailing southerly. Rain was not what I wanted to hear on the first day of my tour but nevertheless I woke to rain splattering on the roof, and it continued to fall as Roger dropped me at Mawson Lakes railway station to catch the train to Gawler.

Two policemen, very curious about my bike and trip, came to say hello. I think they would have preferred to be going on a bicycle ride themselves, rather than hanging around Mawson Lakes Interchange waiting for someone to do something wrong.

The old Gawler railway station provided a picturesque backdrop for my liftoff picture.

I pedaled my fully loaded bike at a sedate speed through Gawler's suburbs to the start of the Barossa Trail, enjoying the cool, overcast weather. I enjoyed the weather so much, in fact, that I forgot to take notice of where I was and started with a little bit of bike pushing up a steep footpath beside the South Para Gorge.

Back on track and out in the country, I pedaled along paths lined by the desiccated remains of summer's wild artichokes.

Wild artichokes are a declared pest, and land holders have a legal obligation to take reasonable control measure on their land. The wild artichokes proliferate on road and rail reserves, no doubt causing grief to the adjacent land holders.

At the end of summer the country was dry, waiting for winter rain.

The Barossa Valley being one of South Australia's premier wine regions, it wasn't long before I came across vineyards and cellar doors.

The vines varied in winter readiness: some resolutely green; some sporting full autumn colours; some, like these, had not yet made up their minds.

Grand promises of coffee and cake overlooking expansive rose gardens and rumpled hills of vineyards. T'was all empty promises: it was closed and coffee and cake was not forthcoming.

Deprived of coffee and cake, I heroically resisted temptation and sat in the park at Lyndoch, eating my peanut butter crackers within sight and smell of the Lyndoch bakery. I'm not sure what my heroism achieved, other than for me to feel both virtuous and deprived.

The vineyards may have looked quiet but, like ponds full of ducks, there was a lot going on in the background.

I even passed grape vines with grapes on them, which was quite exciting. Given all the vineyards around, it's surprisingly rare to find vines still with actual grapes attached.

Beyond Lyndoch the path t00k a hard left and wandered beside the creek, promising bucolic creekside paths and shady nooks with picnic tables where I could sit and attack my chocolate stash. Alas, this was not to be. The path, designed by a madman with not a care for the steepness of the hills, dove wildly up and down the the escarpment beside the creek, with what appeared to be the sole aim of passing as many wineries as possible. I went down, I went up (very slowly), I went down again, I went up again (slower and swearier). I gazed across green swathes of grass to enormous cellar doors where fancy people drank wine in air conditioning and watched me through tinted floor to ceiling windows. I watched with envy as cars zoomed along the (relatively flat) Barossa Way over on the hills.

I passed artworks in the bush. They did not compensate for the poorly aligned path.

The pain didn't last for ever of course: eventually I got back to a more sane pathway and resumed my sedate pace all the way to the Tanunda Caravan Park where the unpowered camp sites were shady and the showers were gratifyingly cold.

My neighbour had a bike too. His went faster than mine.

The Tanunda Caravan Park's vast camp kitchen had an entertaining view of the jumping castle and the goats beyond the boundary fence. I sat in the BBQ area and watched the chaos of family dinnertime descend upon the camp kitchen with a flurry of dirty dishes and tired toddler tantrums. Toddler bed time came around and peace reigned briefly in the BBQ area before Men With Meat (And Beers) arrived for some serious BBQ action.

I took myself back to my tent and put my tired legs to bed.

Goodnight.

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Today's ride: 32 km (20 miles)
Total: 32 km (20 miles)

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