Mud, Sweat and Tears (almost) in a mad dash to the Laos border

After my 1^st full day cycling in Vietnam I'd failed to learn my lesson and pressed on with some aggressive distances and even a 300 mile bus detour in the wrong direction back towards Hanoi in order to cross into Laos via a different border and pick up more scenic roads in Laos.

Rough roads along deep valleys

My 2^nd day on the "road" took me from Phong Tho to Muang Cha along steep canyons in true mountain country. Predictably the road turns from 3-lane highway to mud on the edge of town and heads immediately up the steep side of the valley. All along the river valley, dams are being constructed, the road has been diverted and is being largely under construction high up the canyon side. Heavy overnight rain has turned the mud trail into sloppy soup of every colour imaginable (orange, to red, brown and black) which later turns to slippy gloop as it slowly dries out. Bamboo pole roadblocks operate all along the road, allowing traffic to pass in half hour breaks between long construction shifts; I'm lucky to only be caught out behind one for 45 minutes in the searing sun. On reopening, heavy trucks and buses from both directions battle it out on the single muddy track right next to a steep drop off of several hundred feet to the river below. I later hear from a group of tourists that they had to get out of their bus and push all along these sections. For me, I ended up paddling the bike along with one foot whilst kicking down repeatedly with the other foot attached to the pedal – steering through the muddy mess of tyre tracks was a mess too as one mistake could have you sliding over into the mud. Somehow I survived but my lovely white socks, worn under my sandals to protect my feet, will never look the same again. It really took it out of you and unsurprisingly I didn't see any other cyclists on this section, only motorbike drivers who either shouted encouragement or looked at me strangely as if I was mad – one even went as far as imploring me to turn back! 

Improvised roadblock held me up for 50 minutes for road construction on tough muddy roads

A waterfall spilling out onto the road

When away from the destruction caused by the dams, new roads and landslides the scenery was spectacular; full waterfalls cascaded down the steep canyon and occasionally spilled out onto the road, amazingly a few hermits had chiselled an existence out of the steep valley sides with an isolated hut amongst rice terraces.

Stuck in the middle of a waterfall on a rainy day in the mountains

Lonely living Vietnamese style

Riding through Muong Lay, the dam construction gave it the appearance of something from Apocalypse Now, the whole deep wide valley was trashed by earthworks and far below by the river bank, workmen were busy relocating a graveyard which would soon become the bottom of a lake. I managed to get a hearty lunch in with a bunch of guys who again were intrigued by my big legs and hairy arms, but were happy to share tea with me afterwards. Via sign language and several pronunciations of the next town I was able to find out that there was a guesthouse there so wasted little time in moving on. The road's a lot better but my body's broken as I slowly crawl up a 2,600ft pass in the stifling heat of the afternoon. Young kids encourage me as I pass and an old guy in threadbare military fatigues even insists on riding my bike himself, which he just about manages despite only just being able to get his leg over the top tube. I pass three mischievous teenagers wielding machetes, probably out collecting bamboo for dinner, and think how different my reaction would be if I saw the same scene back in Brixton. Over the pass it's all downhill into Muong Cha and I throw the bike into the switchback turns to avoid pedalling as much as possible.

Still smiling despite the terrain

I manage to find a hose to wash down the bike, which was caked in mud and had started making some disturbing noises, then leave a layer of mud on the floor of the shower after cleaning myself. Out searching for dinner I get pulled into a bar service Bia Hoi (draft beer) by some guys from a football team who I presume are celebrating winning their Sunday match. With a little English I'm pulled into their beer rounds, which are drank almost ritually chinking glasses every time you want to take a sip. Again we go through the normal hair, height, body routine but this time also move onto weight, My assertion that I'm 100kg brings a congratulatory handshake from my neighbour – as if I'd fulfilled one of his life ambitions. Most of them were between 50 & 60kg so I'm sure they'll be living off the story for a while. Unfortunately, to sustain my excess mass I needed more than the tasty weisswurst type food (chilled & wrapped in leaves), served with garlic & chili salt, so had to make my excuses; They refused to let me pay anything and did not appear to pay themselves so I've no idea what situation I'd just walked in on. At their recommendation I had dinner in a massive hall I shared with a large party that were constantly toasting each other using tiny cups of green tea – wish I could speak the language to find out what the hell was going on.

Dien Bien Phu

2 days' hard riding meant I was only about 3 hours from Dien Bien Phu. On a good road with only one decent pass to negotiate I was done just after 10am, fortunate really as by that point it was over 30 degrees and feeling bloody hot. Despite it being a large city, the road in was very rural and I shared it with kids riding water buffalo and old cruiser bikes as I approach the city. Dien Bien Phu is the scene of a major military victory over the French that essentially won freedom from colonialism for North Vietnam. Until 10 years ago it was a rural backwater then suddenly the government decided to make it a huge industrial and commercial city and hub for the area. Relics of the war remain with burnt out tanks, reconstructed bunkers and extensive museums displaying, amongst other things, a bike adapted with bamboo supports to carry over 300kg of ordinance at a time – I wouldn't like to have cycled that up the hills around here! Despite all the effort, the city still looks pretty dull and tourists largely pass it by (I had a 200 seat movie theatre to myself at the museum) A load of tourists, including Ferg a guy I'd met in Hanoi, piled into my hotel at 6pm, having taken the bus from Sapa. It had taken them 11.5 hours and essentially been the journey from hell which made me pretty chuffed to have done it by bike in just over 2 days or 17h20 actual ride time.

French trenches at Dien Bien Phu

A horse of a bike that carried 300+kg in the war against the French

Stopping for mangoes on the bus to Moc Chau

Predictably I left the other tourists waiting for the bus to Tay Trang & Laos the next morning – somehow I'd not yet had enough of cycling in Vietnam and decided to take the bus 300km east to Moc Chau and cross the border further south. Although the bus did feel like cheating, it was the most scared I'd been on the roads as the minibus driver insisted on taking the racing line through each of the hairpin bends and several times we only narrowly missed some big coaches coming the other way. I skipped some long but spectacular passes on what was now a relatively smooth main road. As the only westerner on the bus I was beckoned to eat lunch with the 2 drivers. As we shared no language I hadn't a clue what was going on but happily shared a beer, Vietnamese feast (spring rolls, pork, beef, morning glory, rice…) and tea. Again I didn't pay a thing, maybe they'd already had enough from my $12.50 fare. Strangely I felt a lot more relaxed after sharing a beer with the driver, though his driving style didn't change at all. 

The Moc Chau Plateau wasn't exactly flat

I got dropped off in Moc Chau, in the middle of a 4,000ft high "plateau" which has become the milk production centre of South East Asia. Unfortunately nobody told the Vietnamese that plateaus are supposed to be flat and I spent the next 20 miles climbing from valley to valley over terrain that could have passed for the Swiss alps. After that the road plummeted down past spectacular views to the low rice plains around Mai Chau – an area with many traditional stilt house villages that have turned to guesthouse tourism to supplement their subsistence rice farming.

Rice paddies surrounding Mai Chau

Arriving in Mai Chau I turn onto a single lane track towards the villages and bump into a ragtag group who were out cycling around the paddy fields. Sydney & Arron, from Canada, had just finished a mud wrestle in a sodden rice paddy and were covered in mud of every colour. The rest of the multinational group were hanging around laughing at the spectacle and seemed like a fun group to hang out with so I negotiated to join their party at a home stay up the road. We shared a couple of beers and even a bottle of Dalat wine over a huge dinner then were later joined by Geert, a Dutch Australian who'd spent the last 3 months cycling through South East Asia and in the process broken a couple of wheel, a full bike and shed 25kgs in the process! Geert had some great stories and is still continuing his cycling through first Europe and then America so we were able to exchange some travel tips. Critically he had a map of Laos & Thailand which allowed me to note down some towns and distances that would be critical to my route planning over the coming days. In the morning I had to wake up the chef at 6:30 to get breakfast – poached eggs in instant noodle soup (excellent), and the only other person about was Geert, ready to finish his last 100km into Hanoi, we wished each other good luck and set off in opposite directions.

Rough uphill roads

Ahead of me lay a long day of somewhere between 60 and 90 miles to get to the Laos border (impossible to tell from various contradicting maps and blogs). A lot of it appeared to be along a river so I hoped that the grades wouldn't be too severe. I was relying on my original map as this region lay just off the corner off my North West Vietnam map. All I had to do was follow the river south to Bo Thuac and then turn right – or so it seemed. The first few miles took me slightly downhill to the river which I happily found flowing downstream with me. Through a couple of villages I hit a big, definitive looking road sign directing Bo Thuac off to the left and some other town I didn't recognise off to the right. Following my map I blindly turned left but immediately felt uncomfortable as the road reered up hill and turned away from the river. I even stopped to ask a local workman who confirmed that Bo Thuac was indeed straight up the hill. 

A wrong turn took me up this muddy goat track

Taking a rest on the way up to a pointless 2,000ft pass

 I continued climbing for another 3-4 miles before I stopped to check the map again – I was certain the road I wanted followed the river bank rather than climbing up into the hills. Of course, then I realised I was on a completely different road, a cut through to a join the road to the border ~10 miles to the east of the junction I was aiming for. Although it clearly went over a pass, my map didn't tell me how high and the road also passed through a nature reserve so I decided to press on rather than admit defeat and turn back. As the road climbed the valley it turned from tarmac to gravel to stones and eventually slippery mud tracks. At one point a landslide made it impassable for anything other than nimble motorbikes. Each little hamlet I passed looked amazed to see me but encouraged me on – They didn't even have electricity, I'm sure they never had white men visit up here and then a crazy one turns up on a push bike! Near the top I took a break and refilled my water bottles from a pure mountain stream. An old couple pushed a clumsy wheelbarrow up the track past me acting as if I were merely part of the normal scenery. 

With no mains electricity, all power came from the plentiful water

Ducks block the way on my "shortcut"

Back on the bike, after negotiating a roadblock of ducks happily swimming in deep puddles, I scrambled up the last few km to the top; and then started the jittery journey down. The mud was mostly clay and clogged the tread on my tyres making it impossible to control the steering; you simply had to pick your motorbike tracks and hope for the best. Even using my feet to balance I inevitable got it wrong once and was sent flying over the handlebars as they jackknifed in the wrong track. Fortunately I came out of it with only grazed elbows and knees that, seeping blood, added to the spectacle as I passed through rural villages. Once again, my bike came off better and I simply hooked my panniers back on and continued downhill. Once I'd found my way back onto the main road and along to the junction for the border, I was knackered and I'd spent an extra 2-3 hours climbing a needless 2,000ft and adding 15-20 miles to my day's ride.

I bumped into four Thai cyclists in the town that was supposed to be called Bo Thuac

At the junction (incidentally not Bo Thuac – the road sign was right), I found 4 Thai bike riders clothed head to toe and seemingly unaffected by the heat on a scorching day where I was riding with as few clothes as possible to try to keep cool. Comedy sign language helped me understand that they'd cycled up from their home town in Thailand through Cambodia, Laos & Thailand. We share lunch at a little roadside stall but even if we shared a language it would have probably been a quite one, we were all hot and knackered and I struggled to force down a noodle soup and a little rice. 

Sharing the road with rocks and rice drying in the afternoon sun

I set off in the wrong direction but soon realise my mistake and pick up the road out towards the border with 55miles still to go at 2pm. Normally this wouldn't be that hard, but with the heat & humidity at close to sea level plus incessant climbs on a road that's never flat it'll be a tough afternoon. This really is backwater Vietnam, there are no real guesthouses and each village seems to run its own collective business by hand. These varied from the normal rice cultivation (ploughing, digging, planting, cutting, drying, carrying and sieving), harvesting edible bamboo from the forest, cutting bamboo for construction (chopping, carrying, and splitting into inch with strips for collection by trucks), shepherding water buffalo, cows and goats. The Vietnamese worked all day from dawn till dusk and it was awesome to ride through their normal life past old women smiling with black beetle nut stained teeth, kids riding buffalo, showers under diverted mountain streams, chickens, dogs and piglets. Surviving on Tang powder and the occasional Pepsi I needed all the encouragement I got from kids high fiving me on the side of the road, although when a huge water buffalo squared up to me in the middle of the road I thought maybe it's not going to be my day (I also thought that red was maybe not the best choice of colour!)



As dark started closing in, I was still over 10 miles from the border and had one final climb to scale on the narrowing road. I pressed on, eyes straining, into the dark, the road occasionally illuminated by fireflies. I could just about make out the curves until momentarily blinding by a moto coming the other way. With a few km to go I pulled over and fixed my lights, immediately attracting the attention of a thousand biting insects. As I approached town my silhouette set all the dogs off barking like crazy, fortunately none decided to chase me as I had nothing left to flee. Collapsing into the first hotel I found I had to take the only room available, a huge room with a small bed in the corner, windows covered in newspaper and cockroaches occasionally scuttling across the floor. Dinner of pork fat (disgusting), rice and soggy greens, supplemented with a 3 egg omelet just about gets some fuel back in me, but I collapse into bed completely broken.

 
Vietnam has been tougher than anything I've done before but the climbs were generally rewarded with stunning views. Some stats for Vietnam:

• Total Distance 334 miles
• Days: 3 full days, 3 part days
• Total ride time: 32 hours 50 minutes
• Average Speed: 10.8mph
• Total climbing: 25,250 (4,000ft short of Everest)
• Longest Day (Distance): 100.1 miles to Na Maew (Laos border)
• Longest Day (time): 10 hours 37 minutes riding
• Top Speed: 39.1mph
• Top Average Speed (in a day): 13.6mph to Mai Chau
• Slowest Average Speed (in a day): 9.3mph to Na Maew
• Most climbing in a day: 7,851ft to Na Maew
• Route: Sapa – Phong Tho – Muang Cha – Dien Bien Phu – BUS Moc Chau – Mai Chau – Na Maew

A tough introduction to cycling in Vietnam

My South East Asian adventure almost finished before it began when, the day before leaving, I discovered that my Visa On Arrival, organized several weeks previous, had me down as Australian rather than British. My accent's drifted a lot but I suspect I would have struggled to pull that off with my UK passport. So my last 24 hours in Australia included a mad scramble to get another Visa arranged and pack up boxes for home. Even when I try to be organized I somehow manage to stuff it up.

 

Possibly the worst map of South East Asia!

Fortunately, I was completely disorganized about the rest of the trip, I'd read that a tent would be useless, so had shipped it home, but stupidly still carried my sleeping bag, Thermarest mat and other bedding that it turned out simply stayed tied to the top of my bike rack added some less than welcome weight to my bike up and down the hills.

 
I'd also read a few blogs / books about people cycling vaguely along my anticipated route, so I bought a map and considered my planning compete… Maybe it would have been a good idea to look at the map and read more about the monstrous mountains I'd face on dirt or washed out roads, or simply to realize that my map was terrible, with no names in local script, half the town names wrong, or in the wrong place and a splattering of inaccurate point-to-point distances. When it came to planning a route / distance for each day it was really a bit of a stab in the dark, all you could guarantee was that it would involve some climbing!

 

Shopping for toys Hanoi style

Arriving in Hanoi, my Hotel pick-up appeared a little surprised by my box and took a few minutes to scramble a car big enough to carry it. Hanoi is hectic, but I took some time on the way into the city to assess the road "rules". First, they drive on the right – I'd no idea on this before. Second, they drive wherever there's space on the road, bikes and motos crowded on the shoulder and overloaded trucks powering up the middle of the road. Dust and car fumes were everywhere and I pretty much decided there and then that cycling out of Hanoi would be a bad idea. In the bustling old quarter the scooter ruled alongside plentiful use of the horn, for no reason whatsoever, combined with the fumes, heat and humidity, it gave you a constant dull headache. Everything happens on the scooter here – courting, talking on the phone, shopping and a whole lot else I'm sure. Pavements have become scooter parking zones but fortunately if you walk on the road, the traffic generally moves out of the way for you. It's crazy but somehow seems to work.



 

Heading back from the Perfume Pagoda

I gave myself 3 days in Hanoi to acclimatise to the heat, humidity and crazy roads. Most of my time was spent wandering the streets of Hanoi but I did manage to catch up with a family friend and do a day trip out to the Perfume Pagoda, where I was the only one to refuse the $3 charge for the cable car and choose to walk up the mountain instead, it's all training right. Mind you I had it easy compared to the little old lady that rowed 8 heavy westerners an hour up the river in the rain and then back again. In Hanoi's old quarter, hawkers were incessant but getting lost outside the old quarter was one of the best experiences to be had, normal life returned with small street markets selling everything you might ever need and plenty you don't, backstreet barber shops and more cafes than you could hope to ever eat at.
I also run into a Dutch couple who've just cycled up from Saigon, they recommend I write down all my destinations on paper as they'd never been able to pronounce anything correctly – should make ordering food interesting! The rest of the time I try to plan my cycle with little success, but eventually get a response from a cycle tour company that suggests at least some of the roads I'm looking are probably passable. Armed with another tourist map for North West Vietnam I feel I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

Cruising the river near the Perfume Pagoda

My bike arriving for the night bus to Sapa

On the 3^rd day I'd scheduled for a minibus to pick me up and take me to the Bus Depot for the night bus to Sapa. Unfortunately as it turned up it was immediately clear that there was no space for the bike, no worries, ever resourceful, two staff from the hotel jumped on a moto with the heavy bike between them and hand delivered it to the bus! Arriving in Sapa, I temporarily lost all my luggage as the bus driver unloaded it at an earlier stop; fortunately there was a very kind American Vietnamese girl on the bus who helped me recover it.

 

Rice paddies in the valley below Sapa

Sapa's another destination on the tourist trail and I immediately picked up a couple of followers – including a tiny old lady dressed traditionally who would have weighed significantly less than the sum of the luggage I was carrying. I avoided the offer of guided tours to their villages and handicrafts and instead put the bike together to explore the surrounding country by bike. Heading down a valley road, I quickly realise the roads here may be challenging as I'm hard on the brakes to gingerly cross several washouts between hairpin bends as the road drops some 2000ft in 10 miles to the end of the road. Villages were out working together on their rice paddies, ploughing with water buffalo or planting by hand. As I descended out of the cloud, the deep valley opened up below me providing a spectacular backdrop to the roads tight hairpin bends. Obviously the downhill passed by in a flash but on the way back up I was forced to enjoy the view a lot more as the steep grades slowed my pace to little faster than walking.
The rain scuppered any more tourist rides in the afternoon and instead I tried to find out more about the hill tribes by visiting the local museum with its fascinating displays on the differences in local dress and customs. Over dinner I met Skye, a cool guy from Colorado and together we caught the end of a traditional show put on for drunken Vietnamese tourists that largely outnumbered westerners. We also met Jürgen, a sketchy German guy who's been travelling Asia for 2 years. Exchanging travel stories he kindly informed me, in that straightforward way that only Germans can, that the "USA doesn't count".

 

Cold & Sweaty in the Silver Falls Car Park

My bike ride proper started early the next day, I was up at 5 with the rising sun and packed up ready to leave at 6:15am. Breakfast included some lovely donuts with strange yellow stuff (bean I presume) in the middle. Out of Sapa the road headed straight up, a seemingly helpful sign directed me onto a rough (and steep) shortcut which I ducked out of after about a mile – I should have seen this as a sign of troubles ahead. Again I was climbing through the clouds, 1,500ft up to the Silver Waterfall. Set up to accommodate hundreds of tourists, at 7:15am I was the only one there. I still got shouted at for wheeling my bike onto the viewing platform; presumably I was supposed to park it at the oversized car park 200m down the hill.

I continued over the pass at 6,850ft (my highest point), still shrouded in cloud and unable to see more than 20m ahead. After the pass the road immediately plummets down steeper than anything I've seen before, in fact I descend over 4,500ft in 12 miles. I'm forced to go slow as not only do I have to dodge several rock falls, navigate a muddy construction site in the rain and handle the frequently washed out road surface, but my brakes are too soft to handle the gradient and riding above 12mph might have meant not being able to stop! As I descend out of the clouds the view is stunning, even in the rain but it's hard to appreciate through the pain in my cramping forearms (from braking) and having to concentrate so hard on the road. Halfway down I meet a Malaysian guy cycling uphill, he's cheerful despite taking a month to get here from Vientiane, Laos and the fact I'm the first cyclist he's met so far!

A typically washed out road on the descent from Sapa

Believe it or not, this is in fact the main road down the mountain

The road is terrible, reduced to a washed out river bed in places, covered in rocks with foot deep gullies. Frequent landslides remind me of the dangers of these mountain roads. It's fortunate I'm cycling at the start of the rainy season as I suspect this would be impassable in a couple of months' time. All of a sudden, the mountain track turns into a 6-lane highway, I've hit the first town where the government it seems have decided to invest in multi-lane modern highways for a couple of cars rather than the roads that link the towns to each other. Cheering and waving locals encourage me up the hill out of town, which as least gives my hands a rest from braking. The road deteriorates to Lai Chau, the county seat, where of course it turns into 10-lane tarmacked highway with absolutely nothing built up beside it. A couple of blocks north I find what must be the old road and find somewhere that looks safe for lunch. Over a steaming bowl of Pho Bo (Beef Noodle Soup), Vietnamese parent and grandparents introduce to me to their young children who are terrified of me; a small baby cries whenever he's carried within 5 metres of me! The Vietnamese are always keen to help solve any mechanical problem and I have to ride off before a local mechanic destroys my brakes as we try to tighten them by the side of the road.

This road sign was special even for Vietnam! Note also the wide empty highway

A lone motorbike cruises down the 6-lane highway in Phong Tho

On leaving Lai Chau the road turns from 10-lane highway to single-track mud lane immediately at the town boundary. More hard climbing over mud, rocks and gravel are really taking it out of me, but by 3pm I'm well on my way to Phong Tho, my targeted overnight town. "BANG"! There goes my back tyre – the 38mm marathon racer may be great on rough tarmac but a rock has sliced a half inch long gash in the weak side wall. Fortunately I carry a spare, but it's only 35mm wide (not really wide enough for this terrain) and this is not a good sign on day 1 where replacement tyres are impossible to find. A Vietnamese family beacon me under their front porch just in time to dodge a biblical downpour. The following half hour is hilarious as we try to converse in a combination of English, that they don't understand, Vietnamese, which goes way over my head and sign language. I gather that they are intrigued by my beard, at a week old it's already way beyond what they can grow, the size of my legs and shoulders which they prod and grab much as they would have done at an African slave market and my height which they estimate at 2m plus. Finally, we get onto my leg hair; my new friend promptly plucks a few hairs from my shin, sticks them to his hairless leg and dances around, much to the amusement of the whole family (and me). After the rain subsides, we part as good friends; I roll on into Phong Tho with little incident, other than almost falling off a ridge in the road. I'm greeted by another 6-lane highway and the choice of a couple of guesthouses, no idea who stays here though; I suspect they can't survive on wandering cyclists alone. Settling down to dinner as the light fades, it must be rush hour on the 6-lane highway as a small herd of water buffalo saunter past.

Rush Hour on the 6-lane highway in Phong Tho

 
My introduction to cycling in South East Asia has been tough – 66 miles took almost 7 hours with an average speed of just 9.5mph, despite over 9,000ft of descent over the day compared with 5,400ft of climbing. In America I'm have easily knocked off 100 miles in that sort of time, but the heat, gradient and road conditions and humidity are all beating the hell out of me. It's going to be a tough month; my pre-conceived ideas of a gentle 1,000 mile ride through Asia seem a long way away right now and to top it all, the language barrier means I can't really share the experience with anybody.






 

Testing my legs out on the Great Ocean Road

Gateway to the Great Ocean Road - built by labourers
after the 2nd World War

 After 4 weeks of dressing & redressing my wounds, they finally healed up well enough to go for swim. Then once I’d had my wheels rebuilt with some new Mavic rims (sorry trusty DT Swiss rims) and had new 28mm tyres arrive from the UK I was good to go again. A shortish trial ride down Beach Road in Melbourne revealed all the fitness was yet to disappear but I was certainly a lot weaker than that fateful day in Queensland. The only remedy was to head away for the weekend and I’d been itching to tour the Great Ocean Road to the West of Melbourne – Australia’s equivalent of Pacific Highway 1.

The rugged Southern Ocean

So a three day weekend finally arrived and after a little organizing I worked out that I could leave the tent at home and hit the road a little lighter than usual. In wanting to enjoy the road rather than test myself too much I chose to take the train out to South Geelong and start from there so most of my riding should be by the coast. I almost missed the train but scrambled on at the last minute, feeling a lot better than then last time I took a train with the bike. I picked up a riding partner just out of Geelong – Gary, a guy from Meribula, NSW riding on his holiday in Torquay. We shared the brisk headwind all the way into Torquay where I pulled off to get some information – there I was greeted by a lovely lady who thought I was mad to ride on the holiday weekend, with a motorcycle rally going on as well. I resisted telling her what I’d cycled through so far and over the course of the next 3 days saw maybe 20 bikers – a few thousand less than in the Black Hills of South Dakota. An hour and a half out of Melbourne, from Torquay West this is surfing Country and from a bluff above Anglesea I watched a surf lifesaving progressing in the choppy ocean far below. Back riding I feel like eating healthily again so stop for a lunch of a sausage roll & burger with “the lot”. Passing through Lorne I pick up a bottle of Wine (rolling hills) for my Warmshowers hosts and hit the most stunning section of the Great Ocean Road. Here the road snakes, hugging the steep hillsides and almost overhanging the ocean, especially at numerous lookout points. I race to catch a couple of heavily laden touring bikes, but it turns out they’re going so slow I cruise past them with nothing more than a hello.

The winding road hugs the cliffs just past Lorne

 Arriving at Kennett River I follow directions to my hosts, straight up the steep hillside at 15% + incline until, almost out of energy, I reach their simple holiday house. When they arrive 5 minutes later I’m still catching my breath. Derek & Lisa, with their little son Samuel immediately make me feel at home, but I still can’t resist nipping off back down the hill to the beach for a bit of body surfing in the cold ocean. After a bit of successful Koala hunting and feeding sausage in the palm of my hand to the local Kookaburras, we feast on homemade Fish Pie, cabbage and of course the wine I brought! Samuel busies himself clearing the Eucalyptus leaves from the balcony one by one, and endless job he seems to relish.

Samuel and the Kookaburras

Hand fed Kookaburra devouring a piece of sausage

Happy to be back on the road again

Day 2 starts early, but not as early as many of the other cyclists out riding – it’s both quiet and stunning, other holiday makers have yet to rise and we cyclists have the road to ourselves. The road into Apollo Bay for Breakfast continues much as that from Lorne the day before, snaking up and down from bay to bluff to bay again. Just down the flat straight road is Morego, where the road bucks up inland into the Otways. Steady hills of 8% and more climb through dense forests up to 1,000 ft, the sun is baking whenever the trees clear and the road continues to buck and roll as the occasional caravan or bus overtakes too close for comfort. Freewheeling down into the Aire Valley I’m hitting corners at 30mph going faster than the cars, it feels great to be back on the road. From Glenaire, at the mouth of the valley, the road heads immediately back in land and up to Levers Hill at a little over 1,500 ft. It’s tough going as the temperature drops the higher I go. I finally reach the top and feel the massive chicken parma and chocolate cake is well deserved. Shooting back to the coast I get badly buzzed by two AAT Kings Tourist Buses and swear to write a complaint letter (yet to be written) but will definitely avoid them in future.

The first of the 12 apostles

Arriving at the 12 Apostles around 4pm I unfortunately coincide with the masses of tourist buses, most likely out of Melbourne for the day. The scenery is still spectacular and I take the time to walk around and take it all in. At one point I get a hello from an American guy who recognizes the RAGBRAI jersey – he’d ridden in ’96 and had fond memories we were able to share all too briefly. Arriving in Port Campbell for the night I check in and immediately jump in the bay for a swim – the 77 miles and near 6,000 ft of climbing today have been tough and my body needed the cold sea to wake it up.

Islands of rock just off the road

The Razorback

Day 3 should be a short ride into Warnambool but with the wind at my back and the sun overhead I can’t resist putting in a few extra miles. Above Port Campbell I come face to face with a large Wallaby on a short walking track to a lookout – of course he bounds off before I can grab that picture. Morning is spent hopping from viewpoint to viewpoint, playing tag with the same cars at each.

Back by London Bridge

The highlights were the collapsed London Bridge and a little grotto where the ocean had dug a hole in the cliff and being low tide I was able to climb down into it. Taking a detour off the Great Ocean Road down to Childers Cove the water looks inviting but I know better as it’ll be freezing and I’m too lazy to take the walk down the steep cliff to the beach. I arrive at Warnambool early and after getting a little lost in the American-esque suburban sprawl.

My new Grotto hideout

Another secluded cove

Basically don't swim here if you want to live

Prehistoric looking Timber Hill State Park

I find the information and the train station but decide to ride on to Timber Hill State Park, an extinct volcano in the middle of a huge, deep crater. Here they’re tried to recreate the natural environment before western intervention – descending from the crater rim, an almost pre-historic scene greets me with 3 Emus strolling across an open plain in front of a deep red coloured crater lake. The single track road weaves down the crater rim and across a causeway to an island of an extinct volcano cone. Climbing to the top you can see the whole park and even the ocean in the distance with its rollers coming in from the Southern Ocean. As I explore the park, pelicans flock above my head, emus roam the picnic ground and a solitary koala rocks gently to sleep high up in a Eucalyptus tree. Reaching the top of the crater once more I turn to face back towards Warnambool and am almost blown back over the edge into the crater by the force of the wind. Over the next 12 miles I pay for the easy ride earlier today as I head straight into the raging headwind, by time I reach the station again, I’m spent and have caught the sun quite badly. No time for a shower although I am able to find some food, so I apologise to whoever had to sit near me on the train back to Melbourne.

Emus in the Picnik Area

After 208 miles and a fair few hills, I can confirm that the legs are ok after the accident but could probably do with a bit more training before hitting the mountains of Vietnam, Laos & Thailand. Unfortunately of course work gets in the way and all I’m able to get in is a few rides down beach road, racing the locals on their expensive racing bikes and a day trip into the lumpy Dadenong Ranges. There seems to be quite a battle going on between cyclists and Drivers in and around Melbourne – Australia is not used to bike riders on the road, but bike riding has taken off in Melbourne. Hopefully everybody will work it out because there are some great places to ride in and around the city and it really shouldn't be that hard to safely share the road. Signing off from Australia not quite ready for riding in Asia and certainly none the wiser for where and what I’ll be in a few months time after the Olympics in London…

Instead of doing all this cycling simply for fun I'm also raising money for the North Staffs Adventure Playground where my handicapped sister used to attend. They continue to do great work with handicapped and special needs kids and adults in the local area and woulld really benefit from any donations. Thanks to all those who have already sponsored me and contributed to the North Staffs Adventure Playground - I'm hoping to hit 1000 pounds so please donate using the following link:

http://www.justgiving.com/BigRedOnABike