Outbike ride development

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The 1/3 on the bus (Christine's story of the journey)

Just after Rod and I booked our "Wayward outbike" trip from Alice Springs to Coober Pedy via the Simpson desert (an over 900 km bike ride along the Old Andado track), Mr or Ms Weather Desert decided to give the driest desert of the driest continent a few welcoming drinks... After a hectic week at work we flew to The Alice on the friday to find the dirt roads south-east of Alice Springs closed (end of Plan A for now). Plan B was drawn from Peter's hat (please welcome Peter, one of the 4 heroes of the trip) and 9 riders started biking north-west towards the West-Mac Donald ranges (Simpson's gap and Standley chasm), i.e., in the opposite direction to plan A. Starting plan B on Day 1 (saturday) was actually a relief for some of us as it meant bitumen, beaten tracks from a previous "tourist" safari in the area 12 years ago. The relief was not to last as the ride organiser Ralph (please welcome Ralph, another one of the 4 heroes of the trip) along with three more riders joined the first group of 9 riders at about 2 pm (lunch break at Standley chasm) and switched us all back on to plan A since the Old Andado track was reopened. Considering that Rod and I has already beaten a personal record of 70km before lunch we let the riders cycle back another 32 km towards Alice Springs and we developed the two-thirds (2/3) theory by getting a ride on the bus: "the 1/3 on the bus". During our first sunset and bush camp along the main road more strategic decisions were made following a great diner by the fire prepared by Bill (please welcome Bill, another one of the 4 heroes of the trip): the "Tour de France" riders would start early in the morning and the rest of the platoon would have a choice of a lift to Alice Springs's center or to the airport. It would also give Peter and Ralph some time to finalise a few things like satellite phones and purchase of thermoses and coffee plungers for what was to become the best morning and afternoon tea breaks on the red planet.

On Day 2 (sunday) we joined the airport drop for a last expresso coffee and Robert made "final calls" (and I really mean final) to his mates in Brisbane to say that he was doing the original ride after all... As it turned out, Mr or Ms Red Sand Dune swallowed Robert's mobile a few days later (not to be confused with the whistle bird of the Simpson Desert). All I remember from Day 2 is Bill's cup of tea, a reasonably good dirt road with ranges in the distance under a threatening cloudy sky and our arrival at Santa Theresa aboriginal community just in time to visit the church and load our bikes for "the 1/3 on the bus". I have no recollection of lunch which is a pretty rare event meaning I must have been off with the fairies... Santa Theresa was the first camp in the original plan A, but we were now trying to make for the missed day by adding 10 percent to each day ride distance. We drove past Allambi station with its airstrip and "chaussette du vent" and past a group of 3 riders (Helmut, Robert and Lucy -one of the three female riders) who were pleased to hear that they had another 12 km to go... The third bush camp had the "inauguration" of the shower and the introduction of the "Blue for Body" and the "Vert pour les Verres" bucket rules. Bill cooked a Roast diner and we had another great evening by the fire, a very mild night with a trilliad of stars. For the first and last time I lubed the chain, almost a pointless effort.

Back on the saddle at 7.45 am on Day 3 to cycle all across Allambi Station, to adjust to the nitty gritty of the ride and to confirm that Rod and I were very slow, mostly due to the necessary breaks rather than to our average average (14km/h). Before the Peloton took off I managed to get a shot of Rod and Robert. As time and kms went by, Peter realised that the gap between the Peloton and us would only increase and he brought us a "hors d'oeuvre" with some fruit juice. We savoured this in the shade of a small bush tree along the sandy red track. I do remember the nice and fresh corn in the sandwhich which means that I was not with off the fairies anymore but well and truly on the Old Andado track. Although the idea of the "hors d'oeuvre" was strategically good, the prospect of a rushed "plat principal" (when we finally made it to the lunch spot) was too much for my French soul and I hopped onto Peter's bus as it is a sacrilege to rush many meals in a row. The "hors d'oeuvre" triggered Rod into a "never give up mood" and he proudly continued to the camp site at the edge of Allambi Station. This was the first completed day for Rod (around 80 km). I was the "Lanterne Rouge", but the body seemed to cope and I had a better idea of the scheme of things. The 1/3 on the bus was an occasion to learn about the four passenger rules: (1) the passenger opens and closes the gate, (2) takes his/her shoes off to check the depth of the water, (3) pushes the trailer when bogged and (4) changes the flat tire... By the time we got to camp I felt that I had enough knowledge to start MY trip the next day. We were about to enter the Simpson desert and that is what I was here for. Here begins the real journey, "en avant la musique". CAREFUL WARNING: if you pass this point you will be addicted for ever.

Despite a fake puncture on departure, Rod and I completed the 90 km of Day 4 in 6.5 hours of riding plus breaks. Except a 10 km long rocky section in the morning, the surface was mostly red sand with a track narrowing down by the hour. We even managed to complete the ride with Lucy and Robert: they fell under our spell and we enjoyed a siesta on the red sand bank after digging into the sultanas and macadamia nuts. But the best was still to come as we realised when we reached Bill's camp for the night: a red sand dune, in the middle of nowhere, with no other sounds than ours. Lucy had time to carry her swag to the top of the dune for a sunset display that everyone will remember. I took my first sand sample of the trip (I am a sand collector). What a day! Bill had to leave the next day and we were introduced to BT our new driver, cook, entertainer and didgeridoo teacher (and marshmallow...) Late in the evening, Bill took us for a walk on the dune. After his sand drawings of the footprints of the various nocturnal monsters, I was very surprised to realise that Lucy was actually going to sleep on top of the dune after all.

Day 5 turned out to be a bit unusual with an early ride along a magnificent red sand dune to the Accacias Reserve turn off, a wait for poor Merv who ended up with two consecutive punctures in the first hour, a group photo at the turn off sign, a drive to and back from the Accacias reserve, a ride to a bogged truck and trailer event, which allowed Rod and me to catch up with the crowd of riders for morning tea in the shade of a beautiful gum tree. It was already late and hot and we soon lost all the riders again. We completed our ride to a very late lunch where we hopped onto BT's truck. It would be impossible to get to camp before dark (initial plan was to try and make it to the New Andado station but that clearly would be difficult for most riders). We drove to the Old Andado Station, saw Molly's house, the camp ground and other various sheds. From the station, I could see the riders struggling in the sand at the top of a dune. We soon drove past them. It felt like being on one of these "Tour de France" caravans but without the distinctive siren. We continued to a camp site about 3 km before New Andado, which Peter had selected. While the last sandy stretch was giving the riders a tough time, we had fun pitching the tent in daylight, enjoying a "Blue for Body" bucket wash and collecting some firewood in preparation for an amazing sunset and a weird night: the sky was threatening with two dark areas coming from two distinct directions and progressing on a collision course right above our camp site... It was dark but still dry when most riders made it to camp to enjoy BT's first evening tucker (It was her first day with us). She even found a "red" frog which had probably woken up after a sleep of a few years. Who knows... The dishes were about done when the dark clouds collision occured: thunderstorm, lightnings, rain, wind through a good proportion of the night. The thought of being bogged there for a week crossed my mind and I was almost looking forward to it. But "no, no,no", nothing like a bit of rain to rejuvenate a Breton soul and generate a nice bread type crust on a red sand track.

Day 6, Thursday, was to be an endurance day, a 12 hour journey from New Andado to mossie land Mount Dare, starting with two hours of daunting mud riding, more hours on very sandy sections (Rod's favourite surface), more sand dunes and heat, cheeks as red as the sand, amazing scenery which switched from the dunes to an incredible forest along the Finke river. I was quite impressed by how muddy the bikes were in the first section and how it was still possible to push along. The cleats on the pedals and shoes were definately annoying since we had to continuously hop off and walk in the mud. I eventually found a compromise but the cleats turned out to be responsible for my three "minor" falls in the whole ride. At lunch time, BT and Ruth had an excellent soup/bread and tea meal ready for us in a shady spot by the river. This was our first lunch with a few other riders since we had actually managed to keep up with the second peloton. Spirits were up but there was a long way to go still. Fortunately we were now on hard clay with occasionnal patches of mud and the forest was absolutely stunning. After hours and hours of riding we reached the Northern Territory / South Australia border sign: it was getting dark and we had another 14 km to go. Ralph and John had passed us after afternoon tea and we were the last two riders still on the road during sunset. Adrenaline had kicked in and we were not going to stop since Peter was very supportive and assured us that he would come and look for us after an hour or so. Riding in the dark with no lights is actually quite something. You feel the bike a lot more and time really slows down, so does the riding pace. When it got really dark Rod switched on my LED head lamp and I tried to follow his dark shadow. It was kind of funny to be riding in the middle of nowhere but I could not understand how, in this darkness, in such a flat desert, we could not see any lights from the Mount Dare homestead. Then Rod said: "are we on the right track?..." We kept pedalling until we finally saw the headlights of Peter's truck, perfect timing. We were still quite a few km away but I borrowed Peter's torch and we finally made it to Mossie heaven, to the "effort of the day" green cap, to the pub, to BT's barbie and to a hot shower. This was the highlight of our trip, like surfing the perfect wave at Broulee river mouth, from the rocks right to the beach (different time scale of course). We were extremely greatful to Peter for his patience and support.

After this strenuous event, Day 7 (Friday) was bound to be a bit of a struggle especially with the muddy sections, the gibbers, the wind and finally the horrible rocky sections, a real killer for the wrists and backside. I don't mind sand, mud, or headwind but I really dislike rocks. I really wanted to hop on the bus to bring forward the end of the day reward but Rod was clearly not giving up so I kept going with Rod, Helmut and Ralph, cheering up a bit thanks to a pleasant afternoon tea break. Peter assured me that the rocks would eventually turn into clay and we pushed on to get to the reward of the day before mossies attack: the magnificent Dalhousie Springs and a swim in water at 35 degrees. Diner was marked by an exchange of views about the break up distances, or more exactly about sticking to the agreed break up distances, for the next day. The night was punctuated by howling dingoes.

I felt that my body and joints deserved a proper 24 hr rest, and I started Day 8 (Saturday) by another swim in the springs while Rod zoomed off first at 7.10 am. I traded all the fun of riding the gibber plains (=rocks) and riding across the sand dunes (up and down) past Hamilton station for a smooth ride on the bus with Peter till lunch time and with BT and Ruth afterwards. A lot of riders got annoyed by the rocks and got a lift till the end of the bad section. We camped on thorn heaven land 18 km past Hamilton station. I will skip the story of the cream and the story of the cheese cake mix... It was really interesting to see all the work in the backstage: this ride was really extremely well supported. BT made a fantastic cake in the camp oven and we spent the evening watching satellites and the ISS (International Space Station), playing the Didgeridoo, and planning the next few days and the visit to the Painted Desert. A few of us were starting to fret about ending the trip, only 3 days to go and we all had adjusted to our new lifestyle. Our digital camera failed after Day 8 but Peter gave me some pikies so that you won't miss anything.

Day 9 (Sunday) was to lead us to the famous Pink Roadhouse in Oodnadatta. The body was now used to the usual early start on the saddle. Rod's chain and cogs were in an undescribable state and it only had to last for a few more days. We pedalled to morning tea (I presumed as I can not remember that one) and to a fantastic lunch by a riverbed (BT's devonshire tea). All the riders except Rod, Ralph and I had already sloped off many hours before. We continued to afternoon tea and found Peter playing/working/??? with his Macintosh. He told us that the others had missed afternoon tea all together. Noone (including Ruth and BT) had seen the water / fruit / stool sign although it was at the top of some sort of lookout. Rod and I decided that it was time to apply the 2/3 rule again and we "helped" Peter put our bikes on the trailer while Ralph happily hopped onto his bike for the last 20 or so km. That gave us time to pitch the tent in daylight, check out Oodnadatta, have a hot shower and be ready for Peter's (ride photographer) slide show during diner and for BT's Didgeridoo lesson! The last two days had to include 210 km of riding in a cold headwind and a drive/lunch visit of the Painted Desert. Helmut and Robert would start riding as early as possible to be in time at the turn off where most riders (except the fast ones) would get a lift to.

We slept in a little bit on Day 10 (Monday), resupplied, played a bit of footie in front of the Pink roadhouse, refueled, took some pikies, and finally drove off to the Painted Desert turn off. All riders were waiting in the cold wind and we all drove to the Painted Desert for a wonderful lunch, once again. Back at the turn off, Peter started giving a lift to whichever people wanted a lift. Two thirds of the total ride distance was all I needed to achieve and Rod and I started after afternoon tea, 30 km from the last camp site close to Mount Barry. Most riders got there in the dark (total distance of 108 km in a headwind for the 3/3 riders). Robert passed the green cap to Lady Lucy and BT and Ruth made another excellent vegie risotto and cake. Before the marshmallow session, we remembered that we had collected absolutely perfectly shaped and coloured Paddy Melons on our way to the Painted Desert and we had a game of "petanque". The "cochonet" (an orange) was actually bigger than the "boules". That was fun. I had started the ride with three targets in mind: (1) no injury, (2) no punctures with regular tubes, (3) a ride which would be more than looking at the road and which would lead to more rides in the future. All this had been achieved by then and I thought that the icing on the cake could be a nice number of km: any number over 600 km would be perfect.

Oh, Oh this is now Day 11, Tuesday, the last day... just flat boring desert (nothing like the interesting deserts before) but a reasonably good dirt road. The gray clouds and cold headwind made me think of Brittany and I felt quite good. I rode the first section to morning tea with Rod. After that I went off on my own for a chase of Robert, Lucy, and John. I wanted to see how fast I could go and for how many hours before the body would start complaining. Actually it did not complain at all and I met up with Rod again after afternoon tea for the last 20 km into Cooper Peddy and into Helmut's welcome. He had left during the night (around 4 am) and had arrived in CP at 11 am. We got there at 4 pm after about a 700 km ride (of the 900 and something km), injury free, and really proud of ourselves. I was now physically ready for the ride... Hot shower, visit of an underground house, diner, pub, sleep in the underground bunkhouse (snore symphony in D flat major), get up, visit the Breakaways, pack the bikes, hop onto the next tour to Adelaide (sitting on a bus this time) along the Oodnadatta track and when is the next ride?

Christine