Bevan, Bon Rouleur
29 August 2005 | Adelaide, South Australia
Difficulty is relative. Biking across Australia is hard work, but our trip is overshadowed by the feats of other recent travelers. Take our friend Blue, the Japanese man who's walking most of our route in reverse (from Adelaide to Perth in two months.) If he's not enough to make us thankful for our bikes, there's the Japanese paraplegic who recently rolled her way from Sydney to Perth by wheelchair, in half a year. We never met her, but were shown pictures of the courageous woman. Now we really have no excuse for quitting!
Of course there's the other extreme. One morning in Caiguna we were greeted by Lin Mingwe, a Chinese cyclist accompanied by two cameramen. Mastercard must be a good sponsor; he rode a Trek Madone 5.9, a frame not unlike Lance's, and had a support car and crew of three trailing behind. He proudly tapped his bike computer, which displayed a bold "274km." "Yesterday," he boasted, having traveled in one day what me and Alex might do in three.
Mingwe's dream is to become the first Chinese person to bike across Australia, from Perth to Sydney. He's riding to promote a "universiade," some sort of university sporting conference to be held in Beijing in 2011. A teacher from Bao'an, he also hopes to inspire his students to act on their dreams.
Mingwe was quick to tell us about his previous journeys; he'd biked to Beijing to Paris, and had a self-published picture book as proof. Apparently he'd become a national hero; he's been on many TV shows back in China, hence the cameramen, and seems to have government connections. He showed us written blessings from each Chinese embassy, each one accompanied by pictures with the respective ambassadors.
Mingwe departed as quickly as he'd come, leaving the two cameramen to investigate our morning routine. It was quite strange- Alex and I were packing everything up, and these two guys were doing close-ups on our food, bikes, bodies. I was less than thrilled with their probing, so without warning I dropped what I was doing, spun around and shouted "USA! USA! USA!" at the 1.3 billion people in Chinese TV-land. That succeeded in deterring our observers. At least for a time...
Alex and I started rolling an hour after their departure. The going was tough despite having rested in Caiguna after an epic 180km crossing of the longest straight road in Australia. Just before noon we passed Mingwe and his crew stopped by the side of the road. Out of nowhere, he offered to take my bags and Alex's trailer in his car, so that we could work as a team for the day. If there's one thing I've learned during eighteen years of life it's to trust strange Chinese men with all my belongings, so naturally we accepted his offer and piled our gear into his over-stuffed station wagon.
What a change of pace! Without our gear we flew despite the strong headwind. For the next hour we rode in a fast pace-line, each of us taking turns to take the brunt of the wind. Carrying all that weight had made us strong indeed; we were obviously in better shape than our new friend, and we slowed our pace at his request.
Our new friend generously extended his offer at our first rest stop, asking us to join him all the way to Sydney. We could share costs, and enjoy biking for a change, he said. He mentioned something about walking hand-in-hand through the gates of the Chinese embassy in Sydney to celebrate the achievement. Hmm... I didn't really see my place joining an expedition to send the first Chinese cyclist across Australia, but we took up his offer nonetheless and continued to Madura, 150km from our starting point that morning. Interestingly we didn't really think about what we were committing to; shows how much we liked riding without our gear. Also, shows we're still young and stupid.
Our first day with the Chinese was surreal; we were always on camera. Whenever I did anything I had to assume that a good part of the world's population would be following along. Even while riding the support car would drive by, both cameras trained on the three of us. Mingwe would of course be pulling when the reels started rolling; spurred on by a little "Kodak courage" no doubt!
We biked into the night, the support vehicle lighting our way. We saw tons of kangaroo and learned why so many lay dead by the side of the road; they bound across the highway in droves.
Close to Madura we approached a kangaroo standing in the middle of our lane. It didn't move as we approached. We eventually had to stop, shouting at it to move. It didn't- it just stared blankly. I noticed blood dripping from it's nose and ears and realized it'd been hit. It's leg had also been severely crippled. What does one do in such a situation? Going around wasn't an option; it would be a hazard to vehicles down the road. Could we leave it by the side of the road to die? It didn't seem right; it would be denying this kangaroo a quick death. After much unsuccessful shoo-ing, Mingwe's support car driver grabbed the beast by the tail and dragged it off the road. It was very sad- it seemed as if the kangaroo was resisting his pull, the promise of a slow death. Once off the road the roo fell. It tried to right itself by kicking with its one good leg. After a series of half-flips and rotations the animal got on its feet, only to hit the ground a few seconds later. It was a pathetic sight. After a minute of struggle it rose again, staring at us.
We left. The next few nights I pictured the animal alive, on its side by the road. I regret not speaking up or acting on my feelings; we should have killed it.
The next morning Alex and I opened the tent, and surprise surprise, two cameras were trained on us. They wouldn't leave until we'd packed everything up. Alex and I were pretty annoyed when they told us to hurry, and that Mingwe was waiting. We'd gotten up at the agreed upon time. I began to tire of this crowd...
Mingwe announced that we'd make Border Village that day, some 190km away. I was less than pleased that he hadn't consulted his new team in formulating his decision, especially since Eucla (180km away) seemed a superior resting place (I had a map which detailed facilities at each roadhouse along the Nullarbor.)
About 120km into our day, I talked to Alex about the possibility of leaving Mingwe and his team. We were both tired of this new style of riding; it was fun for a day, but a fully supported tour wasn't what we'd come for. It's novelty had definitely worn off and missed our old routine. I felt we were losing an important part of the trip; the autonomy we had as a pair. Although joining Mingwe strengthened our partnership by giving us a faction to side against, we thought it best that we part from the Chinese team. One more for the cameras: as we approached a roadhouse I introduced Mingwe to the time-honored tradition of sprinting for the town line. USA flew into the roadhouse taking first and second, with China coming in third, almost a minute back. "USA! USA! USA!" I wouldn't normally have initiated such competition, but I was hungry for a break from the structure we'd been funneled into.
I bought Mingwe a beer and we had "the talk." He didn't let go easily but gave in after a half-hour of debate. It made me somewhat uneasy that during the process of discussion (basically him ignoring my saying that it wasn't fun for us) he was translating for the cameras. To what extent were we belittled on Chinese television? He concluded to us that we weren't as capable as him of traveling great distances, day after day. Great, so the two American kids give up traveling with the strong Chinese guy. I hope they also air the hour-long nap he took that day.
Mingwe and his team decided to stay at the roadhouse hotel with Alex and I, and graciously bought us a big room, our first hotel of the trip. Furthermore, his team cooked us a delicious meal of Chinese noodles and sausage, which Alex and I devoured. He then had us sign his big map of Australia, which already had a number of signatures on it. Notably, our friend Blue had signed (Mingwe had given him some money.) It was strange- he asked me to write my name as well as my parents'.
I'm thankful for the time we spent with our Chinese friend. He was a very nice guy, and it was great to meet him. Traveling unencumbered was an interesting change of pace; novel at first, then overly structured. However, it ultimately helped us remember our reason for being there; to have a good time. Or, at least, to have it our way.
Crossing the Nullarbor Plain (from Norseman to Ceduna) took us eleven boring days. There was little variation along the highway. On a map it appears to be a coastal route, but we only saw the ocean in Eucla and the day after, crossing the actual Nullarbor National Park. The National Park was the highlight of the Nullarbor for me; there wasn't much variation in terrain in this 200km stretch, but we had great views of cliffs and ocean. It was very, very beautiful. Most importantly, we had 40 knot winds at our backs, so we could coast along at 18mph or so! That was our longest day thus far, about 125 miles between roadhouses.
Frankly, the Nullarbor sucked. I lost my left camp shoe the first day, so I had to clunk around in my biking shoes until I found some cheap too-small sandals at a roadhouse. We had fierce headwinds some days as well, that really made us despise cycling. The food was extremely bland- I've yet to make a good meal on that stove. And of course there was my eczema, which seems to have spread to my lower back. Probably worst of all was the promise of many more months on the bike before returning home. Cycling in such conditions was pretty depressing indeed, and I forgot what it's like to travel in more hospitable areas. Thank god for my iPod.
After two days off in Ceduna, the eastern-most edge of the Nullarbor, we continued on our way, crossing the Eyre Peninsula in South Australia on our way to Port Augusta. The scenery changed immediately; before there had been mostly brown scrub, but now there was lush farmland, and quite a few more people. We were expecting to be camping at roadhouses, but most of the dots on the route to Port Augusta were actually small towns. We had a few days of on-and-off showers, but overall the cycling was more enjoyable; the relative abundance of people and facilities made everything more pleasant. Prices also returned to normal; in the Nullarbor, a big soda would set you back five bucks.
Port Augusta wasn't the city we were hoping for. The biggest since Perth, we expected to find an internet cafe. Alas, no such luck; only a library with a basic connection. But oh man, they have great doughnuts here. I ate about ten doughnuts on our day off, certainly the highlight of my day.
Alex left that night in Port Augusta, ending the first chapter of my trip. He had to take a train to Sydney to catch his flight home in a few days. I got pretty depressed, realizing I really wanted to go home too. Just under a year to go!
That night the tent seemed huge. I even put all my stuff in there, whereas before I had to leave it outside. Still, I felt there was something missing; how would it be traveling alone? It was great living with Alex, we got along very well. I'm not sure how I would have coped with the Nullarbor alone. Bye Alex, have fun in college.
The next morning I left, towards Adelaide. Traveling alone was strange indeed and I was very worried that I'd drop something and have nobody to point it out to me. The change of routine and a fierce headwind made me pretty depressed and bogged me down with self-defeating thoughts.
An hour or two into my day, I started hearing a swooping sound near my head. I thought it was just a gust of wind, but it was a regularly recurring phenomenon. Looking up, I saw a big black and white bird dive bombing my head. Ahhhh! I almost lose control of the bike as it comes down, pulling away at the last moment. I speculated that the bird was a mother protecting her eggs from my quasi-bird-like black and white helmet. I became somewhat fearful for my safety as the bird becomes more and more aggressive; I really don't want my eyes pecked out so early in my trip. I unsuccessfully tried to pelt the beast with gravel. I eventually resolved to moving as quickly as possible out of her territory. Luckily I escaped unscathed, to fight again another day. Or another hour. At about noon, I entered another mother's territory, and again I made it through the kill zone unharmed.
I found I traveled more efficiently alone. With my Ortlieb handlebar bag, I don't actually need to stop every hour for food- I can just eat while riding. While with Alex (whose trailer was his only means of food storage) we had to take food breaks every hour. This being the case, I made good time, and did about a hundred miles that first day biking solo.
That night, I camped in a town that I'd been specifically warned against. Several people in Port Augusta had told me to steer clear of Snowtown because a mass murder had taken place there some years ago. Supposedly eight or nine people had been killed, their bodies placed in acid, and later stored in a bank vault. I saw no reason not to visit, especially considering it was ideally situated between Port Augusta and Adelaide (my next major destination.) Also, the perpetrators had long since been caught, so there was nothing to worry about.
Arriving in town, I stopped at the roadhouse for some chips (fries). Outside were a couple of bikers (riding motorcycles), with leather vests advertising their club, the "Rebels." Having met the fiance of the president of their club a few days earlier, I started talking to one of them, inquiring about the organization's scope in Australia, and about other bike gangs. I told him how the leader of the Oakland Hell's Angels was supposedly arrested at my house for murder, years before I was born. Supposedly the Rebels are the dominant club down under with some 1300 members, and there's tension between them and the Hell's Angels minority. They apparently "smash" the more business-like Angels whenever they see them. Aside from that statement the Rebels were friendly, and were impressed with my undertaking.
Midway through our chat, I was alerted to the fact that we were under surveillance by undercover cops who'd just pulled up. What's more, there were tens of cops going by every minute; the Rebel I was talking to said they were setting up a road block down the road, since there was to be a rally that night.
Snowtown was great. At the clubhouse it was free fish and chip night on account of it being Friday. And I didn't get pushed into a vat of acid.
I'm currently in Adelaide. It's great here; the first real city of the trip (I wasn't all too impressed with Perth's lack of bike supplies.) I've taken two days off, and am trying to enjoy myself. I'm a city person and will spend more time in them from now on, to recharge my batteries and take in some culture. Hostels are a lot of fun as well, and since I'm alone now, they're a great way to meet people and stay sane. Plus, it's a nice change from the tent, if more expensive.
A goal of this trip is to raise awareness for the AIDS crisis in Asia specifically. I'm also raising money for amfAR, the American Foundation for AIDS Research, which has started TREAT Asia (Therapeutics Research, Education, and AIDS Training in Asia,) an organization whose goal is to ensure effective delivery of AIDS treatments throughout Asia. Once in Asia, I plan to visit universities, hospitals, administrators, and NGOs, and write about the local perspective on HIV/AIDS in the various regions I'll be traveling through. It looks like I'll now be making a rudimentary movie-blog or documentary about the Asian AIDS crisis, complete with interviews, while in Asia. Stay tuned!
Why focus on Asia, when there are more AIDS sufferers in Africa? In the early nineties, AIDS was becoming a problem in both South Africa and Thailand. The Thai government was quick to react, setting up education programs in all walks of life. From brothels to schools, the message was out there. Many lives were saved as a result of this early action. South Africa, on the other hand, did not react with nearly the same force as Thailand. There are now more AIDS sufferers in South Africa than in any other country (although India is expected to soon take over that unfortunate statistic.) This is strong evidence that early action leads to much better containment of the virus, and with HIV/AIDS in low numbers in many Asian countries, now is the time to be implementing such measures. Asia has sixty percent of the world's population, and ignoring the problem now will lead to a world crisis.
So what do I hope to accomplish? I hope my unusual trip will open eyes to the problem that faces our world in Asia. If the problem that faces us in Asia concerns you, please consider making a donation to the American Foundation for AIDS Research. This can be accomplished through my website, at www.rideagainstaids.com, or by clicking here.
An impression I'd not like people (especially my acquaintances) to get is that they should donate because I'm out here putting in long, hard, miserable miles for the cause- no. I'm not suffering for donations, please don't think I'm torturing myself to bring money to amfAR. I'm seeing the world my own way, and using the trip's appeal to open people's eyes to the AIDS crisis in Asia. Cycling is not hell (well, not usually) and I'm hardly suffering, even if I do dramatize some of the more trying events. If anything, I'd like to promote cycling as a means of travel. Donate because you realize the importance of amfAR and its TREAT Asia program and understand the interconnectedness of our world.
I hope that made sense.
I know what I've written may occasionally make biking seem like a really crappy way to see the world, but it's not. In fact, if you like seeing places as they are, it's great. You see so much more than you're supposed to. If you're a regular tourist, you fly into the airport, and get a cab into town. If you're a cyclist, you enter the city from a distance. You see the urban sprawl, see the outskirts, enter the industrial district, and eventually penetrate the nucleus, the city center. You see the people who make the city function, not only the Prada-sporting models walking down the main street. On your way to the next urban center a few hundred miles away, you meet the farmers, see the country, and ride some great roads. You will get a rainy day or two, especially the first few days. My advice? Get some Ortlieb waterproof panniers and Maxxis touring tires! In all seriousness, I've found that if nothing else, the most tenuous days make you appreciate the life you'll soon return to (well, not too soon in my case) and help you tolerate adversity in everyday life.
And when you get back, you get all the ladies!
I'm sorry it's taken a few weeks to get this update out. Australia's been pretty hectic: getting fit, establishing routine and self-discipline, having a deadline to meet, etc... have taken a lot of fun out of the trip, and I've found myself with little to no time to do other than bike. Regrettably, I've been riding from point A to B without enjoying too much in between. I've changed my end-city in Australia from Sydney to Melbourne to relax my schedule a bit; my original plan was quite ambitious, and I need time in Sydney to pack my bike, do media stuff, and plan South America. I now have more time to enjoy myself, write, and keep in touch.
Thanks for reading.
Bevan
p.s. Please send me mail! I really like getting mail.
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