Category: Cycling

Out motel, left onto road. Continue for 144 km straight, turn left into motel. Hopefully a different one.

We’re on the B1, Princes Highway. Designed in 1920 for a visit of UK royalty. It’s hugs the coast, straight and you can see far ahead. So the endurance challenge is what to focus on. Kangaroo road kill, the large lorries that occasionally thunder by. Only one cafe, next to a bit of broken replica oil drilling rig (from 1860s).

Destination is Kingston and it’s 1700 inhabitants.

Interesting day where time merged with tarmac and the trance of the turning pedals.

Yesterday the sign at a bus stops read “don’t forget to hail the bus”. How things have changed: from throngs being encouraged to Hail Caesar, now we honour buses. The connection is roads: today a long straight road for 30 miles or so: maybe the Romans were here too.

The landscape is generally flat and dry. Lots of milk farms. Adelaide City seems distant.

The locals have different ways to express their humour, giving us something new to focus on other than the headwind.

Basically following the Murray River which we take a cable ferry to cross at Wellington.

It starts 2500km inland: only 4% of its water reaches the river mouth near Meningie. Abstraction for farming and drinking water.

Meningie was one an important cross roads and stopping point for paddle steamers. Founded in 1866, it’s 600 population is smaller than the heyday. Abstraction from the 1830s onwards meant the river could not keep the sea out so it changed and silted up.

Tomorrow’s route is straightforward. Left out of motel. Stay on the same road for 149km. Mind the snakes….

Adelaide is nestled on a plain, sheltered on the east by a ridge. So a nice flat 4k to a photo point to mark the start, then 10k of a fairly constant 7% up. Great views over the city through a misty forest. We had supporting music to cheer us on: the bird song was lovely. Through out the day the spring roadside flowers gave a colourful backdrop.

Getting to grips with new road signs. What has a level crossing to do with a cassette I thought? Then I spotted it’s a representation of the flashing lights. Dope. Quiet roads and considerate drivers.

Fast out of suburbia into vineyards then a complete change into more arid farmland. Finishing in Murray Bridge early afternoon.

How do places get names? The river Murray was a key trade route post gold discovery in 1850. A prolonged dispute about where to sight a crossing settled on one place. So a bridge (precast in UK and kept in storage for 7years waiting for a decision) was built, 1879. Murray Bridge. For a while it was road and rail until the second bridge opened in 1925. There’s no info if they thought of changing the name to Murray Two Bridges. So we have water, road and rail and their varying fortunes. It takes longer to read this than walk around!

Good start.

This morning we met fellow riders, support crew and briefed (though she seemed to miss the brief part) on the dos and don’ts. Magpie swooping alerts was a new one: coincidentally the Guardian ran an article on it yesterday. Bags down tomorrow at 6:30 was the shock item. Today’s blog will be brief!

Adelaide’s centre is surrounded, by city planner design, with parks. The Himeji (Adelaide’s twin town) Japanese Garden in one of them is an oasis of quietness – apart from the noisy kids who are having too much fun to worry about such things (quite right too).

Then for a stroll back along an avenue of still to bloom trees. No hiding place for the lorikeets. The cockatoos didn’t seem that worried as they dug for (presumably) food.

A final stroll through some heritage bungalows with fine ironwork and then it’s time to pack.

A day of two halves. Adelaide’s galleries followed by bike reassemble.

Adelaide’s old arcades are a joy. Opening 1885 and built in 5 months by 200 workers, it does make you reflect why things take so long these days to complete. With adaptions to changing fortunes (and a fire) 1930s art noveau dominates. They do what good arcades do: shelter small independent shops and niche products.

Looking up in cities shows the changes. Old facades harbour skyscrapers; old names tell of previous use. They seem to have done a good job here at juggling preservation, conservation and modernisation.

The South Australia Art gallery makes an impression. Its cake of the week is a recipe to return to. The Adelaide Museum’s Aboriginal wing illustrates quietly yet powerfully the richness of cultures trampled over.

Then to bike reassemble. Including the scissors making a clean cut of a finger, now neatly bandaged. Other emergency repairs will be made on Barbara’s handlebag holder. Clean machines now await posteriors.

First rain to remind us of home: so far we’re the only bikes sporting mudguards as a permanent touring feature.

Thought of the day from Aristotle in the art gallery: engage on 3 levels to communicate. Pathos (emotion); logos (logic); ethos (ethics). I’ve already engaged pathos in replying to a “are you from England?” question from a fellow cyclist. Logos and ethics held in reserve, though as he comes from Wessex the latter might not work.