Distance: 783km
Dep: 8:00am SA time
Arr: 5:30pm WA time (7:00pm SA time)
Temperature: 14°C - 18°C
Total distance to date: 1685km
Route:
- Yalata
- Nullarbor
- Eucla
- Madura
- Caiguna
- Balladonia
Surprisingly, the coccoon of blankets within a cabin in the South Australian Outback turned out to be the coziest bed I've slept in during this trip. My bladder woke up before I did, and unfortunately it was a 100m walk in the brisk morning air to use the toilet. This was also at 6am, an hour before I was supposed to wake up, but I suppose my body clock is in charge now.
Thanks to my newly activated Telstra eSIM I was able to put a couple of socials posts up and catch up on work emails for the lonely hour before Steph woke up. It's a huge day ahead of us and we knew it, yet we didn't want to leave sooner due to the amount of wildlife on the road at daybreak.
The air was much cooler than what we had been riding in for the first week on the road. We knew rain was ahead so we put on multiple layers, a heated top, and a rain jacket for wind protection before setting off at exactly 8:00am.
Caption: The iconic sign at the Nullarbor Roadhouse. Lucky number 88.
It came in handy, too. It was only about 90km to our first stop, the Nullarbor Roadhouse, and the temperature started decreasing dramatically. The windchill brought our core temperatures down to a level still bearable, but hovering around uncomfortable.
The 2017 lap was so foggy in this area that I could only see a few hundred metres around me. This time, it didn't take long for the trees to become sparse and the vastness of the open plain to come into view. My eyes welled up with both nostalgia for the past, and excitement for the present.
Caption: My riding mate and partner in crime.
A couple of bacon and egg sandwiches and some snaps with the iconic roadsigns at the Roadhouse, and we were off again. We didn't have the time to faff around too much today, and the next stop was 196km away. Back on our bikes we go.
Caption: The first leg was the only time the temperature was warm enough to not wear a windbreaker - this changed 50km after this photo was taken.
It was fairly smooth sailing other than a noticeable temperature drop every half hour or so. I switched on my heated gear and enjoyed dancing to some tunes. Rain was starting to spit down on us and oncoming vehicles had their wipers on. Upon closer inspection, they looked like they all came fresh out of the same car wash.
We pulled over on the Chadwick Roadstrip which has widened sealed parts to assist drivers to move tf out of the way for planes to land. It gave us the time and space to awkwardly shuffle into rain pants while having a bit of fun on this very remote stretch of road.
Caption: Long and straight roads for literal days - about 1000km of it!
Rain started to ease in and out in light showers all the way to about 10km from the Western Australian border. We noticed the clock on our phones automatically going back in time shortly before we joined the queue at the WA quarantine gates with a pack of postie bike riders.
Caption: Toss out your bananas here, they are not allowed.
Eucla Motel is a tiny, modern hub of accomodation and fuel that is slightly off the A1 and even has its on airport. It might not be the Singapore Changi but it's impressive nonetheless. The patrons here differed from those at the other truck stop. Those with a taste for finer things in life seemed to choose this place to stop overnight. There weren’t as many solo travelers or young backpackers in caravans - these were expensive 4WD vehicles towing caravans that are worth as much as a small house.
We refueled, had a quick stretch, and quickly hopped back on for another run.
Caption: Eucla Motel, where a campervan driver egged us to move forward into a puddle so he can fuel up.
The culmination of 8 big riding days found itself through each of my muscles one by one, and before I knew it I had an overall muscular and mental fatigue that started to come in waves.
Neither of us are strangers to big distances. Our last big trip lead us from Melbourne to Queensland’s Sunshine Coast, and back, in 6 days (3800kms were added to our odometer in that trip). The longest day was 750km along the coast through built up cities and towns, all during the depths of winter.
I knew we would be fine to handle the remaining distance, and pulling off to the side to stand in the rain wouldn't do anyone any favours. We pressed on.
Rain was starting to really come down now, and my neck gaiter started accumulating water simply by riding through it. We were less than 50km from our next stop in Madura when water started coming in through the soles of both of my boots. My gloves were well and truly soaked, but my Cyclone Jacket and Acid Pants kept the rest of my gear completely dry.
Caption: Madura Pass Roadhouse - the start of the torrential rain. Spoiler alert: It got worse.
An equally weathered rider was already at Madura Pass Roadhouse when we rolled up. He had purchased his new-to-him touring bike from Tasmania the other week, and was riding it back to his home in Perth. The things people do for the love of the ride.
A hot pie was the only edible thing on the menu, so we opted for this and a ginger beer with front row seats to watch the torrential rain pour down onto our previously dusty bikes. Small rivers started forming on the red dust, filling up potholes with rust coloured soil. Water was trying to find its way downhill, anywhere, but the driveway was flat so it decided to collect in the middle. When it finally let up slightly, just enough to see through the visor, we made a break for it. Afterall, we had 310km to go, and daylight was quickly starting to fade.
Caption: Back on the road for an icy, wet ride from Madura to Caiguna.
In the distance, the misty, dark grey clouds started becoming slightly fluffier with every passing kilometre. Optimism was a fleeting thought after a short enjoyable section of road without rain. Then came the downpour. Water from the heavens seemed to funnel directly into the spot we were riding into. Road trains coming from the other direction sprayed a fine white mist across our bikes and visors so that we were momentarily blinded with water. Water started entering our helmets through the vents. We were thankful that we were on such a straight road, so that all we needed to do was point and shoot. We survived this pummeling all the way to Caiguna where large ponds were forming on the driveway. The whole place was a muddy mess. Previously white vehicles were now exactly half brown. The underside of our bikes have seen better days as well.
Caption: So wet, so cold, but spirits are still intact. At Caiguna Roadhouse - the start of the final leg before Balladonia.
A quick sip of water and a few lollies later, we climbed aboard for the 5th and final leg to Balladonia. I popped "Balladonia" into the GPS and we headed back on the A1. About 1/3 of the way in, the rain - or shall we say, waterfalls - came back, this time with icy cold winds hitting us from both directions.
Steph on the intercom:
"How is it possible that it got worse?"
It was the type of weather that make you question if you really are a heat-producing mammal or if you are in fact a reptilian being that depends on external sources of heat. My body seemed to have stopped generating warmth, the heated top had run out of charge, and my heated grips may as well be the door handle of the inside of a walk in freezer. I pressed my chest and elbows against the tank while gripping the handlebars, my knees were locked in, and my chin was low just to hide from the cold wind as much as possible. My toes were swimming inside my socks and water was pouring down the back of my neck.
I glanced at the GPS. 42 minutes to go. After what seemed like an hour, I glanced down again.
40 minutes to go.
I was already imagining warm thoughts, like becoming a freshly cooked packet of instant noodles, or being in a fetal position at the bottom of a hot tub. Other hot things include:
- Ghost peppers
- Barista made coffee in Perth
- Cate Blanchett
Suddenly I only had 7 minutes to go. Strangely, I had noticed signs to Balladonia saying that it was well beyond the point it was showing on my GPS. Alas, Google Maps had chosen some obscure intersection to a dirt track, and once at that point, Steph advised that it was in fact another 30km.
I questioned the concept of life in general at this point, but gripped my tank a bit harder and kept going. And for some reason, just like that, the rain switched off entirely the moment our tyres made contact with the Balladonia Roadhouse driveway.
Caption: A break in the rain allowed us to pull over, breathe, snap a quick shot of a freshly washed bike, and carry on. I also caught something in my eye, and had to get onto the gravel with my eyes closed.
A hearty meal of spaghetti bolognese and a "parmi" (not parma, as they advise) right after a scorching hot shower made the world right again.
Back at our room, as I was typing this blog, we heard what seemed like a gunshot. We both sat up and looked at each other, then another one went off. This time I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the mini fridge rattled off the floor. I opened the door to find a can of coke that had travelled with us from Kangaroo Island had exploded all over the inside of the fridge.
We sighed, and got back out of bed to grab some towels.
Welp, time to rest up for our journey down to beautiful Esperence.
