bell notificationshomepageloginedit profileclubsdmBox

Read Ebook: From Ocean to Ocean: Across a Continent on a Bicycle An Account of a Solitary Ride From Adelaide to Port Darwin by Murif Jerome J

More about this book

Font size:

Background color:

Text color:

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

Ebook has 859 lines and 52243 words, and 18 pages

Breakfasted, and steered for Orroroo; this township appearing to be right in the path of anyone making northwards. Much crossing and re-crossing of the railway. At half-way, Blackrock is passed. A hard, smooth road, running through the fertile Blackrock plains, now withered and parched; high ranges showing afar off on either hand--and so to Orroroo. Thence it is only a few miles to Walloway, where another rivulet is come upon. To Eurelia the road is not good, but it improves as one journeys towards Carrieton.

In a blinding dust-storm blowing against us, a spring cart passed, whose driver invited Diamond and me on board. This was the first offer of the kind we had received, and it was thankfully declined.

My voucher-book was being signed readily. Only twice so far had it been presented without result. One poor human agricultural implement looked cunningly at me. A book canvasser had "had" him once, he said, and added "I ain't a fool."

Disaster is a merciless mocker; it deceives its victims into believing that it has sharpened their wits, whereas in general it has sadly dulled them. Here was a case in point.

In the other case a pot boy, the only "inhabitant" on hand, was so impertinently inquisitive that I did without his help. Perhaps another case.

The evening at Carrieton was more or less profitably occupied in listening to a tap-room discussion of social, political and domestic economy as represented by seed-wheat. No matter into what by-ways the debate drifted, it came back inevitably to seed-wheat. There was infinite pathos in the tales of helplessness of these drought-harried men.

There are abundant proofs as we steer out of Carrieton towards Cradock that we are already on the outskirts of the kingdom of the bicycle. The horses--bony apparitions mostly--have for the machine none of that contempt which tells of its familiarity to the city horse. So the bell is handy. Not so much to warn the equestrian as to soothe the bicyclist's conscience. You ring your bell and by that simple act throw on to other shoulders the full responsibility for all the frightened horse may do.

To Cradock from Carrieton next forenoon. Thirty miles. Strong head winds. Near Yangarrie, cross a gum-lined creek of shallow running water. Travelling stock and mail route all the way.

And on this stage a slight mishap, and an incident. Before creeping into a dam for a drink, I hung my satchel upon the fence. Having drunk, a horse took my notice: it stood listlessly against the fence, on the outside, in a paddock entirely destitute of feed--a sun-baked waste. But for the support of the fence it must have fallen.

I remembered having somewhere seen such another animal described as a barrel-hooped skeleton, held together by raw-hide.

To discover something so deadly--here was a Companionship of the Bath at the least!

Thus murderously inclined, I approached with the weapon. The animal raised its head, cast upon me a look of mingled sorrow and reproach, lazily lifted its upper lip on seeing the threatening inflator, and--tried to eat it!

Of such stuff are the dreams of the bush.

Thus moralising I rode off without my satchel. Had to race back four miles. And there still leaning against the fence, apparently unmoved in so much as a limb, stood the animal, a pitiful monument to the appalling severity of the drought of '96-7.

After you leave Cradock the ranges appear to be closing in in front. But they are escaped somehow; and Hawker, 17 miles from the last township, is reached. Of Hawker I have two memories: one of a barber; the other of a "specially prepared" dinner. Neither, I suspect, of absorbing public interest.

In the evening, a strong head-wind having calmed down, rode to Hookina ; thence, being disappointed there in the matter of "accommodation," to a place known as "The White Well," seven miles ahead.

Was it to be the first camp out? Darkness had fallen, and lone travellers who can give no rational account of themselves must ever labor under dark suspicion also. But, at a roadside cottage, the rare bicycle served me as a talisman, and secured me a supper, bed, and breakfast. For the day, 64 miles.

The road to Hookina goes through the ranges, and for four miles there are rough and very stony hills to traverse. I took to the railway-line and rode alongside the rails; but the "metal" was destructively sharp-cornered, and the riding unsafe, because of the steep embankments and the frequency of culverts. There was also a tyre-tearing levelling-peg protruding at every chain or so between the lines.

From Hookina the track winds through soft but fair riding and level ground, with the high Arkaby ranges keeping well away to the east. Mount Alice shows up most prominently.

On examining Diamond by lamp-light--I made a practice of looking it over every night--I was unpleasantly surprised to observe innumerable burrs sticking in both tyres. The back one, being of more than ordinary thickness, had successfully resisted their endeavors to get through into the air tube, and the strip on the front tyre, being new, had also dissuaded the attacking thorns from intruding too far.

These burrs, common to many of the agricultural districts of South Australia, and especially prolific where the ground is sandy, are known as "three cornered jacks." No matter how they lie upon the ground, one hard and sharp spear points upwards. They are very plentiful in their season from Hookina up so far as Parachilna.

The breeze next morning, though light, was favorable. But the day was Sunday. I debated with myself, in bed, which would be the greater sin--to not avail oneself of an inviting breeze, or to continue cycle-touring on the Sabbath. Being unable to answer the question quite satisfactorily, I compromised, and made a late start.

To Parachilna : Bad, bumpy road, stony and soft, or hard and guttery. Dined here.

To Beltana : Alongside the railway line--on which trains travel occasionally, and even then for the most part only to Hergott. Some stretches of good track, but most of it heavy travelling. Much walking. Some very stony miles traversed over; country broken into low hills.

I met the first aborigines when close to Beltana. There were four of them, all females, fully dressed. They were walking towards me; and by way of entertaining them I rang my bell and cavalierly doffed my cap. For my entertainment doubtless they smiled, as only one of their kind can, and made grimaces. So we parted the best of friends. "It may not always be so," I thought; "the painful necessity may arise presently to shoot some of your male distant relations."

Bush country is here fairly entered upon; the wheat-producing areas ending about Hawker. The rainfall is too certainly uncertain further north. To the south it certainly is uncertain also.

The everlasting hills yet last, to east and west.

The night at Beltana; 64 miles for the day; 354 miles from Adelaide. In good fettle and with a healthy appetite.

The rough track had been very trying to my Diamond. But all was well. Sunday cycling, too; yet no accidents! Resolved to cycle on the Sabbath in future.

From Beltana Monday morning. Hilly to Puttapa Pass. The latter the most picturesque spot yet passed. Through a jutting rocky point, a railway cutting runs at the base of a steep and rugged hill, and at the cutting's end a lofty iron bridge of many spans runs out across a wide and very stony creek, through whose bed for a mile or so the track winds sinuously; then climbs the northern bank, and so on to country far from good for cycling over.

Saw the first mob of kangaroos--a small one.

Much creek-crossing; also much walking--tiring and very slow. Still, I was in such good condition that I frequently caught myself going at a "Chinaman's trot" where I could not do any riding.

In flat country now. The track faces towards several low flat-topped hillocks, and passes close to some remarkable metalliferous-seeming ironstone mounds. Then to Leigh's Creek, at about 25 miles. Here are a railway siding and a coal mine, Adelaide owned, but the prospects are not bright.

In front of a cottage somewhere about here I caught sight of--my first snake. A small one, brown, about 3 feet long. A frocked child was standing in the doorway keeping tight hold of a cotton-reel. To the unrolled length of cotton was attached a crooked pin, baited with a piece of bread. This precocious infant was fishing--when I chanced to come along and frighten away his eel.

On my thoughtlessly telling the mother she exclaimed, "Drat the boy!" Informed me that "the kid was always getting 'imself into some mischief--could never let things be," boxed the innocent little fisherman's ears, and took from him his tackle. "I wondered what he was awanting the bread for," she remarked by and bye; and when the child, who had gone to a corner to have his cry out, walked over to bury his face in her lap--"Lord bless his dirty little angel face," she said, as, spitting on one corner of her apron, she wiped the little angel face clean.

From Leigh's Creek to Lyndhurst is very heavy road--now soft, now very stony, so travelling is hard work. Thus it was right through to Farina, 60 miles from Beltana, where Diamond and I pulled up about 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

An enthusiastic and almost intemperately hospitable wheelman, the only one in the place, made me welcome; advised me of an excellent stretch of road up to Hergott, 30 miles on; closed and locked his store door to mark the occasion of a stranger-cyclist's arrival, and accompanied me for two or three miles along the track.

Presently some railway-workmen's cottages are reached, and here kind people provided an evening meal. And as I started somebody remarked--"Look out for a bit of a rut when you get about 4 miles on."

Railway workmen up here console themselves for their miserable portion by giving their residences high-sounding titles.

One with the name large-written over the entrance in painfully sprawling capitals is "Marine View Cottage!" A strapping workman was at the door.

"Which way lies the marine scenery, mister?"

"Eh?" he questioned in return, not comprehending for a moment.

I pointed to the sign and repeated the question.

"Where's the marine scenery, is it!"

"If you please."

"Oh, everywhere within a rajus," sweeping his arm across the refuse-littered waste. "Marines for yez, but"--with infinite sadness--"all dead."

At Hergott, 441 miles from Adelaide. Bleak and uninviting. Treeless, save for some Government date palms; healthy looking plants, fringing an artesian bore. The hotel people kindness personified. "Spelled" the greater part of next day and overhauled the machine; cleaned the chain, and located one or two puncturettes.

Found awaiting me here some wearables, a rug and other likely-to-be-useful articles; but hearing of depots still ahead, I re-addressed the parcel, minus the wearables, back to whence it came. Although the nights were likely to be cold, the days are very warm; and the bulk of the rug made it "impossible" in bad country. At night time, for a while at any rate, when camping out I would try how sleeping between two or half-a-dozen fires suits me.

Oil was to be had at the telegraph stations. As I had so far used hardly a single feeder-full, I merely replenished my oil-feeder and left the "reserve tin" behind. I had oiled each morning regularly, perhaps using another drop or two on the main bearings during the day, and had dropped a little on the chain after roughly cleaning it occasionally. Some machines call for frequent re-oiling; others do well with very little. Diamond luckily was among the latter.

The consensus of opinion at Hergott was adverse to the success of my project--for my intentions could no longer be completely hidden. So, rather than endure possibly irritating remarks on the subject, I moved on in the afternoon.

Several people southwards had told me of a cyclist who was coming presently with the object of attempting to ride right through. I was so lightly loaded that few, if any, of them suspected that I was the individual, "misguided," "rash" and many other things. Wherefore to me they laughed more derisively about the coming visitor than they might otherwise have done.

Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page

 

Back to top