Shepperton to Sydney - January 2002

The start of a new year is always good, out with the old and in with the new. Every year, no matter where I am, I like to bring in the coming year with a good positive attitude. Looking forward to the new events and exciting and unexpected things to come.

Work didn't start too early, I arrived on patch just before nine. Jim had to go and awaken Scot at twelve, Mick, as usual was filling his first bin at six. The picking started good, my first bin was almost finished by ten. I was optimistic, the day and year had started good. Then Jim came along and asked me to move to a different row. That in itself wasn?t too bad, after our few days off and the sun being warm, there would be plenty of fruit on the trees.

I was driving the tractor to my new position, navigating the deep gouges in the ground. The tractor swinging wildly from one side of the row to the other. The ruts in the road making progress slow. Disaster, I hit a deep water logged dip in the turf, the steering wheel spun round and caught my thumb and almost broke it. The pain was excruciating, my legs went immediately weak, I felt sick. I abandoned the machine for a bit while I re composed myself.

It took me a further four hours to fill my second bin. This was mostly due to my sore hand and not being able to move the ladder efficiently, I was picking with one hand. The other excuse for being so slow was Scot. He had eventually been dragged out to work by Jim. after his part in the New Year celebrations, Scot was somewhat out of sorts, he was not in the mood for working. Spending most of his time sitting in the grass smoking cigarettes. This didn?t help me much as I joined him sitting on the grass. Scot, twenty six years old, had came to Australia with his parents seven years ago. He was originaly from Glasgow. He's spends most of his time travelling around, finding work wherever he can.

Most people think of Scot and others like him as just being bums, opting out of society, not willing to do the 'normal' thing. Like get a steady job, buy a house, get married and have two children. But Australia lends itself to the traveller, it's so easy. You can get up in the morning and put on you best walking shoes, sling on a backpack with a few essentials and head off. You don't have to worry too much about, how much money you do or don't have, there is always some sort of work available around the corner.

In Australia, if you plan it right, you can be in a warm, sunny place most of the year, weather becomes irrelevant. Scot was a couple of years into such a journey and as we sat on the grass, both of us Scottish, we agreed that if we were at home, we would not be working on New Years day. It was a scandal, we (Scot) had beer in the fridge and it was the first day of the year, what were we thinking of. I struggled to pick another bin, Scot barely managed to pick anything. It was only three o'clock when we sat outside Scots suave orchard apartment drinking ice cold beer. Now this is what New Years day is all about.

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Saturday 5th January 2002

I made up my mind late last night that I would move on. This was not a happy decision, but I couldn't stand having Chris bugging my head. The decision to move on was based on the fact that she, Chris, in all fairness, had come all the way from New Zealand to go cycling with me. By the time we finished packing, it was eleven thirty, admittedly, I wasn't wanting to go on this part of the journey at this time, I had no money. At this stage, all I could think about was earning some cash.

Our first day cycling wasn't too bad, we covered ninety six kilometres. The going was quite easy, mostly flat on soft meandering roads, it was hot but enjoyable. Because I didn't really want to be on the road, my mood was somewhat antagonistic and I was probably being a bit hard on Chris. Well, my other option was to stay in Shepparton and leave her to make her own way to Sydney. That too would be unfair, she has been saving up for a while to get here.

The day was uneventful and we found ourselves in a wee place called Glenrowan, the site of the twelve hour siege and capture of the famous Aussie outlaw 'Ned Kelly' in June 1880. The main street of Glenrowan was handed over to the icon, the shops all had Ned Kelly memorabilia, there was the Ned Kelly museum, where they had a replica of Ned's home made armour, and the Ned Kelly Cafe with its huge Ned Kelly statue.

Sunday 6th January 2002

After the customary photo session at Glenrowan, we headed north east , it was nine thirty. The Hume Highway,

wasn't too bad, there was a wide shoulder most of the way, keeping us relatively safe from the reckless drivers hurrying themselves to get 'somewhere'. Again the road, being a highway, was pretty uneventful. We arrived at Wodonga at eight o'clock, we had been on the road for ten and a half hours. This was mostly due to my desperate need to fall asleep. It was sudden, one minute I was cycling happily, the next I was doing the noddy, I had to stop and sleep for a couple of hours.

Arriving in Wodonga, we stopped at the first campsite we saw and booked into a cabin at $49 per night. It was fully fitted with toilet and shower, cooker and microwave etc. I unpacked the necessary and crashed almost immediately - only to waken up to watch TV, I hadn't seen one for ages.

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Monday 7th January 2002

There was no rush this morning, we were staying another day. When we did finally motivate ourselves, we headed into town, I needed to find out how much money I had. I found out alright, I had one hundred and forty dollars. I was not happy, how could I do this? leave a job where I would have earned about five hundred dollars this week, doing very little (thinning apples). To cycle seven hundred kilometres to Sydney 'on one hundred and forty dollars'!

My feet were killing me, both my working and cycling shoes were too small for me and causing a great deal of discomfort. We went to a few cycle shops but none had any shoes in my size. By now I just wanted to get bigger shoes, anything. We wandered around the shops trying on various trainers before finally settleing on a pair at seventeen dollars from 'Crazy Clints Bargains'. As I said to Chris, I only wanted shoes with a throw away value, I would get better cycling shoes when I had money.

I'm getting a bit concerned about my money situation, after today I only have one hundred and ten dollars. I am also concerned about the possibility of work along the way. I need to work, Sydney will be expensive for accomodation, so I can't hang around there. I know there is plenty of work in both Shepparton abd Cobram, but how am I going to get back there? Scot and I had planned on going to Cobram to pick oranges. The orchards there were huge, they put on well organised accomadation and fed you, taking a weekly payment of $100 out of your wages each week.

Tuesday 8th January 2002

(Wodonga - Bush Camp, Cycling time 6hr, Distance115km)

On our fourth day on the road, we finally managed to get an early start, we were on the road by seven thirty. From Wodonga, the road is soft, it gently skirts the bottom of the rolling hills. We had crossed into New South Wales by eight o'clock. I had been looking forward to taking a picture of another border crossing. It was a bit of a let down, the sign hidden amongst other local advertisements on a post as we crossed the Murray River, 'Experience it! New South Wales'. No big welcome sign and no cheerio from Victoria.

By one o'clock we were in Holbrook, covering eighty kilometres in five and a half hours including regular rest stops. The road we trundled along was nothing spectacular, the hills that surrounded us were dry and bare. The Hume Highway itself was a busy road, trucks, cars and allsorts of vehicles sped along at treacherous speeds. At one point we saw a convoy of probably forty or fifty fire engines, making their way back to their respective fire stations. Their hard work on the bush fires in the Blue mountains, over. The rain storm last night dampened the fires.

We arrived at our bush camp just after six pm, having covered one hundred and fifteen kilometres. It was my turn to make tea, and what a result. Pasta and vegetables cooked in one pot, flavoured with heaps of ginger and coriander, a couple of spoonfuls of honey and presto, a great tasting meal served with mashed potatoes.

We had a pretty restless night, the camp spot was close to a truck stop, a busy truck stop. It was also the halfway mark between Melbourne and Sydney, the trucks stopped there using it as a halfway changeover, the truck drivers from Melbourne would swap loads with the drivers from Sydney.

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Wedensday 9th January 2002

(Bush Camp - Gundagai, Cyclin time 4hr 45min, Distance 85km)

The noise from the evenings cargo activities had died down by the time we were ready to embrace the morning sun. It was ten past six and all seemed calm as we packed. I bought a new tyre yesterday, my rear one was fraying around the rim and there was a couple of bubbles beginning to form. Normally I would have waited until the thing blew, but I was feeling a bit lethargic and wasn't to keen to start pedaling, it took me almost two hours to change the tyre. The existing one was a damn tight fit, I bent one of my metal tyre leavers trying to prize the thing off.

At eight forty, we headed down the hill, it was a good five kilometre downhill start to the day. I have learnt not to get too excited about the long down hills because, they only lead to more up hills. That was how the rest of the day went, we cycled through the valley between pointed peaks, they weren't mountains, I think in Scotland we would call them 'Corbets'. However, the day was one of vast ups and downs. The heat was bouncing back at us from the road surface and I was soaked with sweat in minutes. I was carrying three and a half litres of water which was warm enough to make tea or coffee with.

By the time we arrived at Tarcutta' thirty five kilometres from camp I was exhausted, I just wanted to sleep. It was the second time in two days where I suddenly came over all tired. One minute I was full of energy, the next, I just wanted to lie down and sleep. Physically I felt fine but my brain was on shut down. Half way up one of the many hills, I told Chris I had to stop, I was exhausted, I didn't feel right at all, that something was not right. She said that it was probably because I was carrying a heavy load. I told her that, yes, I am carrying a heavy load, but I have been carrying it for a year, things should get easier not harder.

I am now beginning to think that I am running out of time to finish this trip on the bike, I will have to re evaluate when I reach Sydney. If I had the money, I would get to Sydney and book my flight to Singapore and start the Asian part of the trip. But, I don't have the money and it will take me about three months of solid hard fruit picking work to raise the minimum of what I think I need for the Asian part of the journey.

My energy levels were begining to concern me, yes, it is hot and yes, cycling long distances every day will drain you. But to start falling asleep while you are pedaling along the road. I don't know if I am going to have the energy to do any fruit picking, let alone cycle across Asia.

Chris and I arrive in Gundagai just after three o'clock, we booked into the council campsite, a nice place nestled on the banks of the Murrumbidgee river. A pleasant place with friendly people. I say friendly, they were travellers touring Australia, where as in Shepparton, they were travellers following the fruit picking, less friendly and way too serious.

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Thursday 10th January 2002

Gundagai, made famous by Slim Dusty in his hit song, 'the road to Gundagai'. Situated about five kilometres from the Hume Highway. Sits neatly on the side of a small hill which over looks the Murrumbidgee River. A very pleasant and friendly town with character. The buildings, look old, the whole place has a lived in appearance. From the old train station spans two of the longest wooden structures in Australia. The rail bridge veers to the right and the road, to the left. Both bridges unused and falling into irreversible disrepair. The locals were up in arms when the council made plans to bulldoze the bridges, so instead they are being left to fall down. Yet, in such a remote area where tourism is high on their income list, you would think it would pay to strengthen the bridges with hidden metal struts. The road bridge could be used by light vehicles and the rail for walking.

Our campsite was nestled between the two bridges and at sun up or sun down the wooden spans/structure glowed yellow in the light, a couple of horses munched on the dry grass and shaded under tall gum trees. Add to that, the sound of rushing water as the river current flowed past the willow trees shading the tent, and you had a very serene, tranquil, setting.

At six pm I walked up to the top of the hill opposite the campsite, the sun was sinking to the right of me as I looked down upon the town, the two wooden veins stretching out to the hills on the other side of the river. Sitting patiently, waiting for the sun to touch the hills to my right. I hoped to freeze the scene with my camera, it wasn't to be. The haze caused by the bush fires in the Blue Mountains near Sydney, some four hundred kilometres away took all the colours blending them all into a pale grey. Even the orange glow from the full sun couldn't break through.

Friday 11th January 2002

(Gundagai - Yass, Cycling time 6hr 20min, Distance 102km)

Yass, after just over one hundred kilometres, was a welcoming sight. The road as it bounced through the foot hills of the 'Great Dividing Ranges' coupled with the thirty two degree heat, was exhausting. A welcoming sight, but, it was not the most impressive place I had been to. The people seemed unfriendly, they seem to have a chip on their shoulders, carrying a heavy weight.

However we pitched the tent in a small corner of the campsite, I cooked up a delicious dish of curried vegetables and pasta.

Saturday 12th January 2002

Sunday 13th January 2002

Monday 14th January 2002

A day of rest done my bones wonders, they, my whole body was aching. I felt Ok and was ready to head on, even if it was lethargically. The road once again stepped up and down the foot hills. I put another twenty pounds of pressure into my Tyres, the bike once again seemed to slide along the tarmac. We done twenty kilometres before stopping for our first break, that set the pace for the rest of the day. It was a reasonably warm day, about twenty five degrees, but the heavy, cumulus clouds blocked the sun regularly and caused the wind to send shivers down my spine.

We reached Mittagong at five thirty and contemplated going a further twenty or thirty kilometres. Then thought again, ninety five was enough. The campsite was fine, with clean tidy amenities a kitchen and TV room. Great I thought, after tea I settled down to watch Sharon Stone and Michael Douglas in Basic instinct. The film was just getting started when the campsite care taker came in and informed me that the place got locked up at nine pm. What, I thought this was a holiday camp, not a prison camp. I went to bed.

Tuesday 15th January 2002

(Mittagong - Sydney, Cycling time 5hr 35min, Distance 115km)

With stiff sore bones, I was hobbling along like an invalid. It's becoming a regular sight, every morning and throughout the day. The weather forecast for the day was bleak, most of the day was overcast and threatening thunder. However, the most we got was a short drizzle.

The camp kitchen didn't open until eight o'clock, so we couldn't leave too early. After breakfast we were on the road for the final stage of this leg of the journey. Today was an important milestone for me, the final stage of my crossing Australia 'West to East' coast.

We had been told that after Mittagong, the road, 112 kilometres of it, was predominantly down hill. This was correct, the day started fast, We covered twenty nine kilometres in the first hour, at this rate we could be n the heart of Sydney by one or two o'clock. Huh! it was short lived, just as the second hour began, Chris got a puncture. Because she was a bit behind me, I stopped to wait for her to catch up, I waited for forty five minutes then decided I should go and find out what the problem was. The puncture had been repaired but her pump wasn't working. I didn't say anything at the time I was a bit anoyed, she hadn't noticed that she was only a hundred metres or so from a petrol station where she could have had air in the in seconds. Instead she struggled with her pump for half an hour, and I had to back track for five kilometres, up hill. We lost one hour.

We covered another few kilometres when Chris decided it was time for food, it was twelve thirty, I was famished. We parked up for half an hour and were soon on the road and speeding along at a steady twenty five kph. It was Chris's turn to be speeding ahead when I got a puncture, it didn't take long to fix, but because the tyre was so tight on the rim of the wheel, I nicked the tube again when re-fitting the tyre, I had to start again, we lost another hour.

I had been hoping to get into Sydney at a reasonable time to allow us the opportunity to take a couple of pictures of the arrival. It began to look very unlikely, we would probably have to stop off about thirty kilometres short of our target. At five thirty we still had forty kilometres to go and we were moving at a much slower pace. We made a decision to keep going and stop when we ran out of energy. We arrived in the great city at seven o'clock, just as the heavens opened up. It took another one and a half hours to find a place to stay. We enquired at various backpa

ckers and found one at only forty nine dollars. It was a small room, the kitchen, showers and toilets were shared, but for only forty nine bucks in the centre of Sydney, it was pretty good. Chris didn't like it - instead she paid one hundred and thirty dollars for a studio apartment in the Pacific International Hotel. The room was great, comfortable, it had all the amenities, it even had a bath. Woo hoo! We settled into our room, Chris made some tea with the last of our food and we crashed, well, Chris did, I sat up watching TV.

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Wedensday 16th January 2002

Booking out time was eleven am. We packed our gear and asked the hotel if we could keep our bikes and bags until we were ready to go. The plan was to find another, cheaper hotel, move the bikes and stay another day or so in Sydney.

It was Chris's first time in a big 'happening' city, she was awe struck, doing a

lot of aw-ing and ah-ing. I had been here in 1987, I remember getting off the aeroplane looking lost. I asked at the information desk about accomodation. Again, I was on an around the world trip - but not on a bike, and again I was on a tight budget - story of my life. I arrived in Australia after visiting America and Hawahii, I had only a couple of hundred dollars(US). I asked for reasonable but cheap accomodation. The girl wrote down the name of an hotel "The George" and told me to catch the courtesy bus just outside the terminal. Outside I handed the slip of paper to the driver of the bus, who laughed, and said, "who stays at the George. Is it that bad, I replied. He laughed again and said he would show me the George when we went past, then I'll take you to a better place.

I was new to this 'traveling' thing so I agreed. The 'George' was an old sand stone building which didn't look too bad. However, the fact that it was in the middle of what I could only describe as a 'bomb site' I took the bus drivers advice. It was late when I arrived at the hotel, which was also pretty insignificant, I can't even remember the name. After traveling for several hours, I imediately went for a sleep. The next day I was awake early, someone was banging on all the doors along the corridor saying, "come on girls, it's time to get up, you have work to do". At first it didn't register but then I realised was staying at very busy house for 'working' women in Kings Cross.

I didn't hang around to long in Sydney, I spent most of my money on a train ticket to Adelaide in south Australia.

Chris and I spent some time looking at several hotels etc and at the same time catching a glimp

s of Sydney. The atmosphere was electric, the place was buzzing. It was like we had stepped into the centre of and aura filled with a positive charge. The harbour was mobbed with throngs of people from all cultures. There were buskers and all sorts of other street acts, all with their own crowd of clapping and chearing supporters.

Back to the accomodation issue - in the end we decided to stay where we were, the 'Pacific International' with it's views over Darling Harbour.

Thursday 17th January 2002

We didn't really know where we were going, as long as we got out of Sydney. Not for any other reason than the fact that it was expensive. Out early we went down to the Opera house were we could get a good view of the 'Harbour Bridge'. We spent about an hour taking each others picture with the different backdrops. Then it was time to head north. We cycled across the bridge, which, was a bit of a disapointment. You are only able to cycle across one side of the bridge, the side that looks out to sea. There were no views of the city, therefore no photo opportunities.

Reaching the otherside hadn't expected to have thirty 'steep' steps to carry our overloaded bikes down. The authorities had tried to help by putting a ramp down the center of the steps, but with our heavy bikes it was still a problem. Chris had to unload and bring the bike down first, then run back up for the rest of her gear.

Still not very sure where we were going, we entered the train station and booked a ticket for Newcastle, 155km north of Sydney. The train, was packed with working comuters on their way home from a hard day in the city. We had to stand at the doors with our bikes, there was no baggage car. At every stop there were people getting off and on, I felt quite embarrassed. Apart from the train being busy, the journey was alright. We had a good view of the trailing countyside as we chugged through numerous small towns. The further away from the city, the better the scene got, we passed over calm inlets skirted by lush green forest. I couldn't see any sighns of bush fires.

Eventually we arrived at a place called 'Fassifern' it was getting late and the night was closing in rapidly. We took the chance and disembarked onto an empty platform. We were the only ones getting off at this stop, the place was deserted. Not taking too much time to think about it we made our way out of the station and followed a tarmac track for a couple of kilometres bringing us out at Toronto town center. By this time it was dark, we didn't have any lights for our bikes (my rule was to be off the road by dark). We still didn't know where we were going. We found a supermarket and bought some supplies for tea 'a ready made pizza' and at the same time asked about a campsite. We had to cycle another three or four kilometres to a caravan park by the banks of Lake Macquarie. Again, we were astounded at the coldness of our welcome, it was like we were intuding, Iguess it was about nine pm.

We finally booked into a cabin, there were no campsites left, the place was chockers. After searching around in the dark trying to find cabin number 5 - the numbers were made of imitation brass about one inch square and stuck on the side wall of each cabins - we opened the door to a tiny room about 3 x 8 feet which allegedly slept four people. By this time our pizza was cold and soggy, however we ate it and fell into bed knackered.

Friday 18th January 2002

It wasn't a good day, we didn't know where we wanted to be. Chris didn't like the idea of going to another city, even though I did explain to her that Newcastle wouldn't be that big. It is the sixth largest city in Australia but, by the time you take Sydney, Melbourne, Perth and Adelaide into consideration, the populationcan could only be a few hundred thousand as opposed to Sydney's couple of million.

We cycled to Maitland, about 40 km, looked at the caravan park, and even I said "no way" it looked like a doss house for drug addicts. We looked for accomodation up by the main shopping area. But even I thought on first impressions, the place looked a wee bit run down.

Again it was getting late and I was feeling a bit agitated, I just wanted somewhere to pitch the tent and relax. We ended up getting a train back to Newcastle where we got the ferry to Stockton.

It proved to be a good move, Stockton just a few minutes across the inlet where the Hunter river met the sea.Was a small seaside resort town, with about five kilometres of golden sandy beach, blue surf and warm friendly people.

The caravan park was quite busy and as I couldn't get my MSR cooker working, we had to wait to use the electric barbeque. I put a billy of watter on the barbeque hoping it would boil for tea, it did eventually get hot enough to make a brew. But the rice had no chance. Peter an Julie had came into the camsite at the same time as Chris and I, they had their comfortable looking caravan parked by the amenities opposite us. They were having a rare wee giggle at what we were trying to cook on the barbeque. Eventually, after about an hour, Julie took our rice and in her microwave made it into a flavoursome risotto. Thanks Julie, you saved the day....

Saturday 19th January 2002

Lazy start to the day, first, after breakfast, we had a stroll along the almost deserted beach. There were only a few families and couples enjoying the sun and surf. The kids screaming as they caught the next wave to body surf on.

Later we

caught the ferry, across to the city. Newcastle, though it is the sixth largest city in Australia, it is not over powering. A comfortable size situated on the south Pacific Ocean, with cafe's and bars along the water front. A small but adequate shopping area and of course a harbour. We didn't do very much, had a stroll along the promenade then headed back across the water where Peter and Julie invited us to join them and the family for tea, which we gratefully accepted.

Sunday 20th January 2002

I went for a walk, the sun was hot, expecting a twenty eight degree day, my foot was hurting like hell. Normally the pain was bearable, but today and for the past couple of days my left

foot has been excruciatingly sore, it was so bad I had to walk bare feet. I went down to the beach as I had done at five thirty this morning, to soak my feet in the cool salty water, this helped alleviate the swelling for a bit.

My five thirty walk was to watch the sun come up over the horizon. I carried my camera with me and caught the orange glow as it silhouetted an elderly, lone fisherman. The air was calm and felt so relaxing, I sat with my feet buried in the cold sand until the sun was high in the sky.

Peter and Julie invited us over for a coffee before they headed back home. I had mentioned to them that I was looking for work and this morning they offered me a labouring job with Peter. They in Sawyers Gully near Kurri Kurri, about 50 km inland from Newcastle. They also offered to let me stay at their place while I am working with them. As least now I didn't have to worry about how I was going to get back to Shepparton or how I was going to earn money. It is pretty amazing how you always seem to meet the right people at the right time. I was beginning to get a bit concerned about my next move, should I go back towards Shepparton or try and find work here in the Hunter Valley? If the rest of the trip goes the same way, then I will do ok...

My other concern was whether or not I would have the energy to make a decent amount of money at the fruit picking. My energy levels are a bit up and down, the past month or so has seen me getting very tired, very quick. The other day when we started cycling, although I only had about forty kilometres to go, I was exhausted before I got started. I pushed myself on but was not enjoying the ride. As I was cycling/struggling along I saw a music cassette at the side of the road, I stopped and picked it up. I put on the tape to hear some great pumping music it blocked out all negative thoughts. Keeping in time with the sounds, I seemed to re-energise myself, just enough to get me to my destination, then I flopped.

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Monday 21st January 2002

Our last day together, we were up reasonably early but didn't make too much of an attempt at packing until about eleven o'clock. Taking our last look at the warm sandy beach, we headed for the ferry. We stopped at the beach for an hour while I took photographs of me pedaling into the ocean, the idea was Alina's. She was going to get at 'T' shirt made with an interesting logo saying "Don't ask how I get across the water" which is the question I get asked most. One business man in the Barossa when I told him I was cycling around the world, asked how I got across the water. I hesitated before I answered trying to think of something really stupid to say. But I just said, "I'll fly across". I all most fell about the floor laughing when he came back with, "Ah, so you are not really cycling ' all ' the way around the world". The sad thing was, he was dead serious.

We had a coffee and some lunch while we waited for the photo's to be developed. The mood was quiet, the conversion very staid and general. Sauntering slowly back down to the harbour where we waited for Peter to call me back with a meeting place where he could pick me up and take me to his place.

At three thirty, Peter called and asked me to start cycling along the 'Industrial Highway'. Chris followed me to the end of the harbour where I stopped to say goodbye, it wasn't a happy goodbye, I don't like goodbyes a the best of times. We hugged each other then I cycled off, not wanting to look back

Peter arrived in his big truck, I threw my bike in the back and we headed to Kurri Kurri. Peter and Julie lived on a 65 acre block some seven kilometres west of Kurri Kurri, right out in the sticks. Their home, set in the middle of the dry and prickly bush, was a shed. Yes, a shed, a large shed, 23x32 metres of tin shed.

Tuesday 22nd January 2002

(Back to the grind)

Now this was an early start, Peter knocked at my door at four thirty. We had a coffee and sat under the early morning stars, the clouds were just beginning to show their silver linings when we jumped into the truck. By six am we were starting work. The job, was to replace the piers under a wooden house, thirty four of them. This all sounded fine but when I found what I was to be doing, it was a different story. I had to crawl under the house, with only about of two feet head room, and dig about sixteen holes, four hundred millimetres square and about the same deep. That sounded easy until I was handed a very small two foot shovel, I had to position myself comfortably ' not ' , sitting on rubble and who knows what, to dig these holes.

I was working with Daz, a tall, well built guy who had been doing this job for a few years, he hated it. The money was good though and you were always moving to a new site, some of which are easy, so he told me. It took us most of the day, well until lunch time twelve noon to dig the holes. The next task was to fill the holes with concrete, oh the joy's. Daz, being the experienced pier replacer had the job of mixing the concrete, while I had the job of pulling the bucket full of the said concrete under the house and depositing its contents into a hole, this task took us until four thirty when we knocked off.

Peter who had been on another job came to pick me up, it was a forty five minute drive back to his place where Julie was waiting with the kids (Tiah and Tash) ready to go to a round table meeting. I was invited to the meeting which was being held at Colin and Liz Browns place, very good friends of Peter and Julies. There were about twenty five people, male and female, having a few beers and a casual chat. I was introduced to one and all as the 'crazy Scots man who's cycling around the world'. The guests were all pretty well to do, all business men and women. The talk was about holidays and boats etc. A few of them were shareholders in a local A La Carte restaurant. The plan was for me I to get up and tell a few of my travel stories, but as the night went on everyone was getting drunk. I didn't remind them.

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Wedensday 23th January 2002

(Bricks and morter)

6:30 start, today my job was to mix the cement (mud) for three bricky's while they built the new piers. It was quite a heavy day, running around the building with buckets of mud and loaded with bricks. The bricks were a pain because I had to roll them under the house to where they were needed. Daz, Hammond and Woody were the brickies.

We finished at four thirty, everyone pretty knackered. On the way home Peter and I went into a few local hotels to see what the accommodation was like. I felt a bit uncomfortable where I was. Not that I wasn't made to feel welcome, on the contrary, both Peter and Julie made me feel very welcome and tried to involve me in all family activities, including the odd shopping spree. They were good people and maybe making me feel too comfortable. I had my own space down the back, away from the main shed, I had access to email and phones etc. Julie was a wonderful cook; no more stodgy rice and vegetables. It was all too good. How could I possibly get back on the treadmill of cycling...?

Thursday 24th January 2002

We started another job today, Daren, Woody and I were to build the piers for a house that had just been moved. It's amazing, they actually buy an old house and pay someone to, in this instance, cut it into three sections and transport it to a new resting place. The house was a timber, four bedroom, two bathroom affair. It was huge, it cost about $15,000 to move. The removal people took a chainsaw to the place, cutting it into three sections and putting it onto a low loader, roof, windows, doors and all, and here it was sitting on steal beams.

We have seventy two piers to build but first, we have to dig the holes. The ground was solid, we had the advantage of having a pressurised 'Orga' for making the holes. However, the ground was so hard it took three of us all day, hanging onto the machine like madmen, we managed to cut thirty 600x400mm round holes.

For dinner Julie made a Thai dish, Julie originally came from Thailand as an orphan. Carla and Debbie, the neighbours also came round. It was all quite exciting, they were all buying or selling something. Peter sold Debbie a pregnant lamb - which turned out to be a false alarm, Debbie sold Carla a Jersey milking cow and Niel bought Peters thirty eight Winchester, after fireing a few shots down the back.

Friday 25th January 2002

(Dingo's, Orgasms and having fits)

Work was a bit of fun today, after we finished the last ten holes under the house, I had the pleasure of spending most of the day working the Dingo. A fantastic wee toy for boys, the dingo is like a small Bobcat, slow, but powerful. I attached the 450mm Orga to the arm and dug holes 600mm deep while Daz had the un enviable job of digging out all the holes under the house. So, after quite an easy day we finished early and went for a beer. Setting myself up for a night on the town with Peter, Julie and Carla.

I was pretty tired after the exertions of the week and the first beer made me feel a tad sleepy, however, it didn't stop me from having two more. Woody gave me a lift home, stopping off at his place on the way in. I had a bit of a drippy tap, my nose, with all the dust under the house was causing me and those around me some annoyance. His wife, Jenny, was a pharmacists assistant, she gave me some tablets which would help stop my endless stream of snot from dripping down my shirt. The instructions said not to take them with alcohol, I was desperate, I took two. The rest of the drive home, eight kilometres, had me doing the noddy. Julie, was waiting for Peter and I to get home, she wanted us to have a sleep before we went out.

The sleep didn't happen, we had a light tea and were of to meet Carla and Andrew. First stop the exservicemans club and a kareoke. Julie was a good singer and was up a few times. I am not a singer at all, however, Peter put my name up to sing The Proclaimers, 'Five Hundred Miles' I had no choice I had to massacre it. Next stop, the Brewery in Newcastle, they had a live, all girl band playing, they were excellent. Carla, a large woman, late thirties, owned a chook farm, she had just sold and delivered thirty thousand chooks to the factory and is preparing for the next delivery of forty thousand, day old chicks. She was a wild one, as soon as the music started she was up strutting her stuff, good on her.

I introduced Peter to 'Red Bull and Vodka' he had been complaining early in the evening that he was tired and wouldn't be out late. The first round, two double vodkas and two cans of Red Bull, twenty seven bucks. Before long Peter was up having a whale of a time strutting his stuff. I said hello to some girl that I danced with, found out that she had three kids, lived in Maitland, was divorced, thirty six years old and looking for a boy friend. She sat at our table drinking Bundi (Rum) and coke, she explained to me that the 'Bundi and Coke' was better than having an orgasm. I said, well, you obviously haven't had a good orgasm lately, would you like one? It wasn't the reply she expected, but she had a good chuckle and we danced some more. Though you couldn't really call it dancing it was more like having a fit. The night wore on, we all had a great time and at two in the morning Sally and I exchanged numbers and said cheerio.

Saturday 26th January 2002

I had been invited by Peter and Julie earlier in the week to join them for the weekend at Umina, I had refused saying that I had some things I wanted to do this weekend. I didn't have anything of great importance to do, I just thought that I should leave them to enjoy the holiday weekend with their family.
However, I changed my mind and helped them load the caravan and we were on the road by eleven.

As I jumped into the four wheel drive, I got a text message from Sally, or was it from her friend! I was now thinking I should have stayed at home. Umina is a coastal holiday destination about one hundred and fifty kilometres north of Sydney, about an hours drive from Kurri Kurri. The campsite was the Aussie version of Butlins, minus the red coats. The beach was six kilometres long, had golden sand and the surf was just right for body boarding. Our site was just fifty metres from the beach, each morning I awoke to the sound of languid waves gently crashing to the shore.

We didn't do much on our first day, sat around chilling and sipping light beers. At about ten pm, I decided to take a walk, I wanted to take a night photo on the beach. As I meandered along the path to the shore, I got talking to Rosemary, she was sozzled. Carrying her glass of wine we both zig zagged down to the beach chatting. She was an accountant from Sydney, She and her husband Bob had been here for six weeks with their family. She invited me up to their caravan to meet them all. When I got there I was introduced to Bob, Mary, Julie, Greta and the kids. There were three families with permanent sites here. We got chatting, you know exchanging travel stories, Bob and Rose had backpacked around the world for a couple of years when they were "young dudes", twenty years ago.

As we chatted and laughed, the mother came out, she was seventy and a bit worse for ware after finishing a half bottle of Scotch, she was now starting on wild turkey. She looked at me and paused for a moment then asked, 'Malcolm, are you married?' No, I said. 'Do you have any children?' 'No, I replied. Oh, she paused. I was getting worried, the rest of them had big smiles. Bob said, she was trying to mach make and laughed. Then she told me that her daughter, who wasn't arriving until tomorrow, was thirty, very fit, had cycled around the UK from Lands end to John O'Groats, She owned a Duplex in Sydney worth six hundred thousand dollars. Then added, ' If you want a companion, she would come cycling with you. A rich chic sounds good, I said, but no thanks, I'm quite happy with the way things are.

The conversation eventually got around to why I was really doing this cycling thing. I mentioned I was planning to write a book about my travels and Rosemary asked what would be unique about my story. I couldn't help myself, I tried hard to spin a story, but the words that came out were the truth. I told them about my kidney and a few other small bits, Rosemary did not believe me, she said that she couldn't understand why someone would take on this sort of challenge knowing that they would probably not reach the end. On that note I made my excuses and left

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Sunday 27th January 2002

(Sydney, the big apple of Australia)
I had an easy day, starting with a six am stroll along the beach. At noon Peter and I went to a local club to watch the boxing, Forrest v Mossely, Forrest won on points though he did knocked down Mossely twice in the second round.

Monday 28th January 2002

Back to Sawyers Gully and crawling under houses.

Tuesday 29th January 2002

Peter and I worked next door to his property, we moved a gate and some wire fencing. I had the pleasure of driving the excavator back, I say pleasure in jest, it took me about half an hour to go the half a kilometre. The next task was to catch four sheep, they were being taken to the slaughter house. It was like something out of a carry on movie.

Peter, his father 'Rae', John and Arran, Peter's sons and I, ran around chasing the poor animals, diving all over the shop trying to catch them. We eventually caught them and Peter and I drove to the local slaughter house. While we were waiting to be seen we watched the cattle being bolted in the brain. It was quite a sight, some of the cattle took two shots. One managed to bypass the huge metal gates, and escape into where the butchers were dressing the meat. The guy on the bolt gave a scream, ran into the processing plant picked up a rifle. At the same time the butchers were running out of the plant. We heard a shot, a thud, then everything went back to normal

Wedensday 30th January 2002

Another day spent crawling under a house. Though the day started with rain and Peter was hoping for another day off. I wasn't, I need the money. It is amazing how quickly money goes. Last week I earned $525, I paid $99 to the tax man, $70 back to Peter and $20 at the Rotary meeting. This weekend I am supposed to be going fishing with the guys, that will cost. I will be lucky to save anything.

Go to > - February 2002

Free Wheelin - January 2002