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Cycling the Great Ocean Road

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The Twelve Apostles, Great Ocean Road

The Great Ocean road is a 243km stretch of pristine asphalt spectacularly hugging the south coastline of Victoria from Worrnambool to Torquay. Built as a project to get soldiers back to work after World War 1 in the depression years of the 1920s and early 30s, the road is an impressive feat and over the next two days I was going to cycle it!

The weather had been dire for days, but passing a sign informing me of the start of the famous road I was pleased to see the sky clear. “Just in time for the views” I thought.

Leaving the port town of Worrnambool I was disappointed to find myself heading inland. 70km   of flat farmland and light bush scrub lined my path with no coastline in sight before cutting south to the seaside town of Peterborough. From there the promised vistas became apparent and I found myself stopping at each of the view points scattered along the coast.

Famously known as the ‘Shipwreck Coast’, this patch of south victorian coastline is home to over 600 unfortunate ships. Mostly vessels carrying cargo and people from Europe or America to the new Australian colonies trying to navigate the treacherous Bass Strait, the body of water separating Tasmania from the mainland. Each of the view points continued the story through 19th century maritime history explaining the tales of tragedy, misfortune and sometimes even foul play!  Matthew Flinders, an English naval explorer and the first man to circumnavigate Australia, said of Shipwreck coast “I have seldom seen a more fearful section of coastline”. Looking out at the high jagged cliff face, huge swell and treacherous rock stacks forbodingly guarding the coast it was easy to see how so many ships came a cropper.

Shipwreck Coast

Fortunately no such dangers threatened my coastal journey as my two wheels remained firmly on terrafirma, the road lightly undulating as I made my way East towards Port Campbell. After 20 more kilometres of spectacular coast line I arrived early to Port Campbell.

Following the coast line

It was low-season in the small tourist town and the streets were quiet, save a wandering grey nomad or two. Confusingly a dorm room in the hostel was cheaper than pitching a tent in the caravan park and with a light rain on its way I decided on a night indoors.  Cooking my dinner in the communal kitchen I got chatting to a large tour group who were on a two day bus excursion down the great ocean road before overwhelming tiredness hit and I retired to my empty dorm room for an early night.

Getting on the bike in the morning it was cold and blowy. I was at one of the southernmost points of mainland Australia just a few days before the winter solstice. The days were short, it was unpleasantly  cold to start much before 8am and was dark by 4:30.

Port Campbell

12km beyond Port Campbell I arrived to Loch Ard Gorge. Walkways weaved their way around the cliff tops exposing more incredible postcard views. I met the tour group from the hostel and told them about my trip, most not believing how far I’d come but wishing me well on my way. This was about as far as most tour groups or day drivers from Melbourne would get as along the next 20 kilometres were scattered more incredible view points and magnificent pieces of road balanced precariously on the cliff edge. The next stop was at the famous ‘Twelve Apostles’, huge rock stacks created by the sea eroding away the limestone cliffs. Unfortunately the erosion didn’t stop upon the naming of this popular tourist attraction and five of the twelve pillars have subsequently been lost to the sea.

Loch Ard Gorge

I saw the tour group from the hostel again. “Well this is awkward” we joked. “We already made our heart-felt goodbyes!” Although their bus was much faster than my frantic pedalling they stayed longer at each of the viewpoints, so we again met and had to say goodbye at each of the stops along the next stretch of coast. Eventually the group leader realised they were well behind schedule and with a final goodbye they were gone.

My route then kicked inland and started to climb. People had told me the Great Ocean Road was very hilly, but I had yet to see any evidence of this. After an hour and a half of climbing I got the picture. Reaching the top at Lavers Hill it was already 3pm, only an hour or two of light left.

View from Devil's Elbow

I flew down the hill towards Apollo bay as the afternoon light faded, pleased to clock up 105km on the short winters day. I checked in to another budget, and empty , hostel to escape another evening storm blowing in from the southern ocean.

Some local wildlife

The road from Apollo bay became even more spectacular as it cut its way up and down the coast, bridges sometimes impressively carrying the road out to sea before violently curving back to land to avoid the more jagged of cliff faces. I stopped at various small fishing villages and tourist spots and at one point found myself at the lighthouse from 1990′s Australian kid’s show ‘Round the Twist’.

My goal for the day was the seaside town of Torquay. Arriving late I made the decision to top up on supplies and push past the town in search of a free camp spot, having lived in hostels luxury for the past two nights. The traffic was heavy as I was getting closer to the subrubs of Melbourne. I cut down a side road and tried to find a quiet spot, even the smaller road was busy as I pushed on into now complete darkness.

Spotting a farm house a few hundred metres off the road I left the road. A dog ran out of the garden, barking in my direction. Hesitating I stood still as the dog rapidly approached. The dog suddenly stopped before me and out of its mouth dropped a tennis ball, the dog obediently lying and waiting in front of me. I threw the ball far across the field and watched as the dog excitedly rushed after it. I didn’t make it to the house before the dog returned with the ball and again lay the ball before me expectantly. I obliged and then knocked on the door. A nice women answered the dog and advised me there was a nature reserve some people camp on 1 kilometre further down the road.

Camp spot near Torquay

I found the spot and camped behind a big group of trees, hidden from the road. It was a bitterly cold night during a particularly harsh cold snap in the region. My summer weight sleeping bag did little to fend off the cold and I had to put more and more of my clothes on throughout the night. At 6am I was woken by the morning rush hour, hurtling past on the road barely 100 metres from my tent. Peeking outside I shut the tent with a chill, I didn’t care if i was spotted,  it was way too cold to go out! I curled up in my sleeping bag and waited for the sun to rise and clear the morning frost.

After a relaxed breakfast and chilly 10 kilometre cycle I made it to Geelong,  by now the sun was shining strong and I took off the extra clothes I was still wearing from the morning. There are two approaches to Melbourne from the South. The first is to stick to the west side of the bay and follow the coast, as you approach the city this road turns into a major highway and by all accounts is pretty unsuitable for cycling. The second, and more favourable option, is to take a ferry across the narrowest point on the bay and follow the Mornington Peninsula into the South of Melbourne.

Geelong

Heading due west from Geelong I made my way to the port town of Queenscliff to take the 30 minute ferry ride. I’d arranged a couchsurfing host for that night in Frankston but the delay for the ferry and stopping to photograph a spectacular sunset over the bay had me again cycling into the dark.

Sunset on the Mornington Peninsula

The short winter days were causing me to cycle beyond sunset with annoying regularity, every time following a similar pattern: As the sun starts to set I’d calculate the remaining distance and how long i’d expect it to take, realising I was behind schedule. Panicking I’d up my pace in a futile effort to recover the situation. Not having any bike lights I really wouldn’t want to have to cycle in the dark. As the light faded this panic and my speed would increase until reaching a point of complete darkness. At this point it was no longer a race against time, there was no longer the chance of ‘getting in before dark’. Calm would fall and I would slow back down, resigned to the fate of ill-illuminated pedalling.

Cycling in the dark on busy roads is a nightmare. My bike and panniers are adorned with reflectors all over, which at least make me visible to overtaking traffic (if they have their lights on!). The major problem is seeing where you are going. As you are trying to adjust to the low light strong headlights from cars in the opposite direction confuse your adjusting eyes. Wide open pupils contract, offended by the intense incoming light. Causing terrifying stints of complete blindness, hurtling along hoping the road stays where you think it was as you wait for your eyes to readjust to the dark. Staring down at your own front wheel, trying not to catch a glance of oncoming lights you have to place total confidence in the white line marking the edge of the verge, occasionally stealing a glance ahead when headlights from behind illuminate the road ahead. Your focus following the car as its accelerates away, checking ahead for any obstacles, which fade back to invisible once the headlight beam has passed. Upmost concentration is required to guide your bike along the verge, whilst remembering any upcoming obstacles from the last time you could see more than 2 metres in front of you.

On this occasion my pre-dusk panic had at least got me to the outskirts of the town, where I could get off the road and cycle the pavement and bike paths to my host’s place. Following google maps I just made it to Brad’s before my phone’s battery died, where a warm meal and hot shower was waiting. I was on the outskirts of Melbourne, for the first time I could look ahead and see my final destination a mere 1,000km up the coast, Sydney.

DSC_5324 DSC_5329 DSC_5330 Shipwreck Coast DSC_5341 Following the coast DSC_5346 DSC_5351 Port Campbell Following the coast line DSC_5358 DSC_5362 DSC_5366 DSC_5368 DSC_5369 DSC_5372 DSC_5381 The Twelve Apostles, Great Ocean Road DSC_5419 DSC_5433 DSC_5436 DSC_5441 DSC_5444 DSC_5445 DSC_5450 Some local wildlife View from Devil's Elbow DSC_5466 DSC_5469 DSC_5470 DSC_5472 DSC_5473 Camp spot near Torquay DSC_5476 Geelong DSC_5479 DSC_5480 DSC_5484 DSC_5486 DSC_5491 DSC_5493 Sunset on the Mornington Peninsula DSC_5498 SAMSUNG Loch Ard Gorge SAMSUNG

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