Granny by Pushi around in Australia

V I C T O R I A

I soon reach the state Victoria. And what comes then, this is the stench of the kangaroo corpses rotting at the side. The scenery exists of ancient nature, a nature reserve. When I come later further to the nearness of the lake Cullulleraine, I also see stubble fields again.

Oh yes, one kangaroo over there in the other side of the street, a quite paled, looks from wide as if there lays a dead horse. I see from my point only the dead animal from the shoulder down. This is a gigantic kangaroo. The drivers live here dangerously. And the cyclists must inhale lastingly the stinking air of the cadaver.

Because I race along with strong tailwind, I consider whether I should not go on, nevertheless, immediately to Mildura. The fork to this caravan park is fastened. Therefore, I go generally there. But then it is with it to an end. The fastened way leads directly to the lake. Thus I descend and push my bicycle the last 300 m. At the registration I need to pay only $ 10 for a night. Then this lifts again a little the high costs of Renmark.

And what is usual with such reasonable caravan parks, this is that there is here no cooled space, neither in the toilets nor the laundry. Thus I sweat thus before myself. I still survive this.

I think, at a temperature from 26 ° C I reached the caravan park. Now, because I already sit two hours here in the laundry and write, the temperature has risen on 35 ° C. Nevertheless, besides, it should become chillier. Well, tomorrow is still a day.

Now I would like to take a shower with chill water and creep in my tent. If it should become too hot again, I take a shower just again with chill water. I have already paid for it. And drinking water may be tapped any time from the faucet of the big water tanks which stand by the sanitary arrangements. Then I can not die of thirst. Hopefully it feels nicely chilly tomorrow morning again.

For the chill night I own now my small fleece cover. If I shall use it in the night?

26. Januar 2013: Lake Cullulleraine – Mildura: 60 km

I had to use the new cover. But it does not warm me enough. Now I must change absolutely something. Thus it does not go on. At night I need my recreational sleep. Thus: in Mildura I buy a new sleeping bag.

In the tree over me sits a green parrot couple, small parrots. By the dismantling of my tent, the young mother of a family with her three small kids comes to me and talks to me. Her small daughter Emmely and her small son Thommy stand with their kid's bicycle aside her. The fact that I am on the move by bicycle, also impresses the children. These cycle here barefoot on their bicycles and are incredibly happy.

The entrance of the highway to here down to the lake is not tarred. Therefore, I push up. It becomes rather warm again.

When I go over a new crossroad, lots of pink Gallah cockatoos fly around quite close me – I in pink-coloured wind blouse. They sit down even on the side stripe and look at me. Do they see in me her equals on account of my pink wind blouse? And the sun shines on my bicycle helmet that it glows white? Comically! I appeal to them. They fly away.

Eastwards with headwind and little motor traffic I cycle on. From here I see predominantly on a side stubble fields. This is probably the reason for the fact that here only one single rotting kangaroo lies with the side in the street and stinks. Wine plantations also come again to view. But here predominantly it concerns stubble fields.

10 km before Mildura there stands on the left a roadhouse with the red sign Post. Today I would like to send my small sleeping bag and the new fleece cover home, of course with other small objects to be got over here. But this post contains post of the people who are living here with their Post-Office-Box-numbers. The people only fetch to themselves here their post. If that gets to know the German post, we must also do it in future, I think. Hopefully it does not arrive there.

The owner of this shop paints on a small paper for me where I find the post and both other shops in which I would like to buy something. With drinking an ice-cold chocolate I leave the house. The remaining kilometer form no more hurdles for me. And because I already know where I find my caravan park and the shops, I roll onto the first caravan park up to the office and receive for only $ 5 a small pitch for my tent.. The man also gives me a big blue grape, as sweet as sugar. I think, he rode earlier probably also by bicycle.

After the tent construction I walk to the post and send a big parcel home. My second way leads in BIG W where I buy a summer sleeping-bag.

But later, however, with the best will in the world I can not find my tent,. A friendly and helpful married couple let me tell them on which caravan park I went today. Well, this I tell them. There they give an amusingly laugh and mean: „You stands in the wrong caravan park. Your is there towards. Can you see it?“

„Yes, I can. I also see the road sign to which I came really there from the left from the direction Renmark. Many thanks.“

Thus I walk carefully across the wide highway. Yes, there I am right and find immediately my tent with my bicycle. In the tent I get the new sleeping-bag. This is one without head part, squarely and lets open itself to a wide cover. Well whether it is warm enough at night? I get to know it tonight. Now anyway the deep-blue fleece cover is on the trip by post home to Kiel.

Lost, I camel!

27.01.2013: Mildura – Ouyen: 104 km

In the sanitary arrangements a little bird twitters and flutters around. I open the door quite far to it. But it does not want to fly away. It hangs close towards me on the aviation grid and looks at me. When I appeal to it, it flies to the back of the room and is away. I look where it can have remained. There I see a little hole over the glass of the window. This is its coming and leaving hole. An amusing greeting.

Because I awake in spite of the new sleeping-bag about 4.00 am of the cold and have not got a good night's sleep, like the whole nights before also. I sit like a hopeless little heap misfortune in my tent and do not know how I can change this. After showering I go to sleep something else. Today in this manner I start only at 9.00 am.

It cycles quite well. Because we have today not only Sunday, but also an Australian holiday, only one single road train overtakes me the whole day. And I could have counted few cars which overtook me on the 100 km long distance. On both sides of the highway there stand the here usual Mallee Trees. I am astonished when I see that they start to blossom and take a photo.

Just I put my camera again in my pocket and turn to my bicycle, there a white passenger car holds just before me. Out jumps a young woman who runs up to me and asks me: „Do they need help?“

"No", I answer with thanks and smile. „I have shot just only one photo. Many thanks for your offered help.“ She shines, nevertheless, she can rise immediately again in her car and go on.

Up to 50 km the air also remains clean, then it stinks again from the rolled over kangaroos, until on both sides the land is ordered, or stubble fields lie. It happens nothing unusual.

In the afternoon about 1.30 pm I reach again a roadhouse. My legs cry after a rest. I nothing like going in the house. Except me no guest is to be seen. And while I sit in this big break under the roof of the terrace at a wooden table and eat – my bicycle stands on the other side of the table – five people come, of it a boy of probably twelve years, curiously and friendly to me and would like to know what has it with the loaded bicycle on itself. While the older woman and her husband ask me to my tour, the younger man, his woman and her son listen with interest.

When I tell about the Nullarbor and the road train, the man begins to tell about the bicycle tours of some Australian by the Nullarbor. „They drive everything with supported company and cycle on their racing bicycles. Only with heavy panniers it has still done nobody. Here nobody does this. And once when a bigger group on her racing bicycles wanted to go along the Nullarbor, the misfortune happened, so that from the suction of a road train one racing cyclists came to the skidding and one under the wheels – deadly.“

The man looks at me in such a way as if I wanted to get angry about the road train. But I have no time to tell to the man that the Eyre Highway has only two lanes without side stripes and these tracks are not wide. As soon as a road train or big truck came, they would have to stop and go from the highway. If they had not acted, however. I did not want to discuss this with the man. Now I know it better from my experience.

And his wife tells me: „The street from Mildura to Melbourne has been already driven by many cyclists and female cyclists.“

„,But with supported company?“

„Yes, with supported company,“ the woman means. „I would have big desire to accompany you by my car. But, unfortunately, the closer circumstances at home do not admit it. My husband and I are on the move by car which pulls up a trailer with a small motorboat lying behind on the head. We are on the way to the Murray River.“ Together they say goodbye to me and wish me the safe second leg of the journey.

But slowly my hands hurt. Thus I roll under pains to Ouyen, search for me the caravan park and immediately put up my tent, because I am dog-tired. I take out of my pocket my first time at home worked out schedule and check the places I have intended from here to Melbourne. There I find out to my fright that I have got lost. Actually, I wanted to cycle in the Murray River further eastwards. Now I am very much sorry. Tomorrow, therefore, I go eastwards to the river. Then I am again on the track.

This afternoon a horse running with Sulky takes place behind this place. I loudly hear the speaker, however, can see nothing. Later the horse owners leave with their horses the showground. I think that now rests rule. However, to it is not at all in such a way. Totally loudly a band plays old hits nearby on the meadow. Because here an Australian and public festival is celebrated, it can be that this goes through the whole night. But I am very tired so I think I can sleep.

It contributes certainly also to it a lot of clothes which I simply stretch about one another. The thin pajamas lie to the possible use beside the sleeping-bag. A gigantic full moon stands deeply in the sky.

28.01.2013: Ouyen – Tooleybuc: 104 km

I really sleep through till 6.00 am. With the rising sun I push back on the coarse way of the caravan park to the street, 200 m and I turn into the B12 which should bring me completely up to the Murray River to Tooleybuc. The low motor traffic is probably to be led back on the fact that today is an Australian holiday.

Overnight yesterday's pains of my hands have disappeared. Will they hold out once again today on this long distance?

The scenery resembles yesterday's with the on both sides standing Mallee-Trees. On half I ride through the town Manangatang. I take the street eastwards to Tooleybuc under the wheels.

After 104 km I reach my caravan cark, which is situated in the absolutely quiet nature at the Murray-River. The owner drives his car immediately from his lawn parking lot and makes it available for me for my tent. About that there hang the big clothes which offer shade. Such big clothes also give shade for all parking cars.

I speak by skype with Gudrun in Spain. We arrange to meet for the next video-phoning on Sunday. Now I am already glad about it. Then she has time. Then also I can speak with my little granddaughter Anna-Lena.

In the shower – only two exist and one is taken – I see a black vermin with long, thick belly and with legs to my terror on the white tiles in all directions. There I think that it concerns the spider black widow and would like not at all to take a shower in it.

However, I also would not like to touch it, also not step on it with my flip flops. Thus I stand in bewilderment with my washing bag in front of it and hypnotize it to pay attention where it runs. But it stays down well. There appears a young Korean woman whom I show this animal. She means: „Does it still live?“

„ I think so. Will it be the spider black widow?“

„I do not believe it.“ She gets the wipe and wants to catch the animal with it. It runs away. There I notice that it is a black, thick beetle, a cockroach.“

Anyway she carries the animal outdoors. The owner of the caravan park hears our conversation and comes out. He kills the disgusting animal. Well, the natives would have consumed it certainly with pleasure. Me not. Then, nevertheless, in this manner I can take a shower, but not in this, but in the other shower from which the friend of the young Korean steps.

Back again in my tent, I still call up my Klaus-Otto. It becomes really warm around my heart.

The dance with the road trains

29.01.2013: Tooleybuc – Kerang: 109 km

At 6.30 am I start with 16 ° C and sunshine. Nearly 4 km I have to ride back to come again on the highway 400. But then it goes against the chill wind.

Who cycled already once on the west coast of Schleswig -Holstein in Germany northwards, who knows about I am talking. There it is barely windbreak. There the wind whistles!

In this time the streets are still almost empty. I cycle by a quite flat scenery which is flanked in the beginning by big wine plantations. Then everything looks on both sides quite dried out. Earlier the Murray River yet had not been robbed by the white people of a big part of its water.

Here there is everywhere still a lot of ground water. But because this is sucked off now partly, the water level and accordingly also the ground water have dropped very much. This means for the scenery that the plants dry up. A sad sight.

To me becomes really stagnant expects. My legs do not want to do so properly speed. The wind is too strong. And then I remember that I ate yesterday generally no supper, but on account of the big heat I drank only two liters of very cold milk. Now I must provide for remedy. In Swan Hill I drive up with the roadhouse and supply myself.

Again I mount my loaded bicycle and cycle further. Short time later I fall nearly with my bicycle while taking a photo by the suction past of a driving road train. I hold on it just still tightly enough in front. Behind my bicycle already lies on the side. Besides, my one bottle holder breaks off. Now I own only a small drinking bottle in the bicycle frame. I must probably count on decrease.

Not too long afterwards, the wind suction behind a road train pushes my bicycle helmet up to the back of my head. How can this only happen? I stop and pull the straps which are pushed together under my chin, shorter. It had not ascertained before probably. And further it goes.

About 2.00 pm the sun asserts itself again with full strength against the cold of the night. My thermometer registers 30 ° C. Therefore, I take off the warm clothes. The air, which reaches now to my body, properly is good for me. Very often I insert a drinking break. Now I am in the area of some lakes. Because the lake Boga lies to the brine quite close with the highway, I cycle there and take photos. The other lakes are far away.

After ten hours I reach Kerang. Me friendly greeting, a racing bicyclist holds and meets me with baggage behind the saddle and a smaller backpack on the back. Also he goes with a bicycle helmet rear-view mirror, but a lot of more stable one, than mine. He calls Ron, is on a marathon route and still wants to race up to the evening – besides, it is already evening – to Tooleybuc where I started today early.

However, he has the big advantage to be pushed by the storm. He is a very interesting man of 58 years. We laugh because we are both already in our advanced second youth. We both are vegetarians. Peculiarly that the vegetarians remain slender and show a happy mind. Also many of it are very sporty. We both decide to remain so young still long, while we live furthermore so and ride our bicycle.

We laugh. We take a photo of ourselves mutually. He wants to send me by email the photo which he shot of me. His racing bicycle owns an still much stronger E-motor than my. With this he can switch on a double lighting at his handlebar. He says: „Come next year at the middle of January again to Australia and take part in the bicycle racings.“

„But from these disgusting mountain races I hold nothing. I prefer level distances.“

He smiles and fishes from his small pocket a cream against my burst lower lip, presses something of it on it which I distribute.

He gives this half-filled tube to me because he still – he also shows it to me – has one more in the pocket. Tonight I should cream again absolutely my lower lip before going to sleep. Ron is a seldom likeable man who thinks and provides actually also to the others whom he does not know.

With the caravan park I receive for $ 10 a camp site. Where I should put up my tent, many mouse's holes and mouse's ways are. No, I would not like to have visit in my tent. Soon I sit in the laundry and write down my experiences, while the mosquitoes sting me below in my legs by my thick socks where my trouser legs are to an end. Commonly! I forgot to spray me. At 10.00 pm I go to bed.

30.01.2013: Kerang – Echuca: 101 km

My today's way is only 10 km less than yesterday. And if it starts the storm to attack again, I also come again too late to the caravan park. I start!

It rolls very well. My distance is apparently on a side street; on it there rules very less traffic. There are also barely road trains. And all around my scenery is flat like a pancake. Of such a tour I dream always, experience it, however, seldom. Today this luck is lovely to me.

The scenery has changed into a cattle region. Also there grows no more wine, or if, then quite seldom still at the beginning, later, however, if something is grown, it concerns maize. Maize and cows, this fits excellently. Thus it also looks to us at home.

Also a wide irrigation channel moves again along like already yesterday on the left side of the highway. This water is of the Murray River for the agriculture and the inhabitants been put on one side.

Where cows graze, many flies whizz in the air around. Before they sat on the cow's round flat dough-cake, now they would like to sit down to my eyes and on my mouth. Well, to those I break this, however, with my mosquitoes aviation spray! Now they may resign somewhere else its filthy tootsies.

Today knocked down and killed kangaroos lie since long time sometimes again at the side of the road. One of it is a female one which lies on the back and stretches the legs into all four directions. It is probably already dead two to three days, but has not yet been nibbled at . The bag is thick, but as sealed. I would also not have looked in it because of the cadaveric poison.

Later the first black snake lies with the side of the road. Otherwise the road users only knock down and kill foxes.

Then I roll up to two cars whose passengers help themselves mutually. A woman stands interested and bored besides. I ask her to take a photo of myself during riding my bicycle. She does this with pleasure. Now I already own two photos of myself. With the selftrigger I have my difficulties.

In Cohuna it pulls me without fail in a restaurant to the breakfast. There stands in capital letters in white chalk on a black board beside the door: Cream Tea and Scones with jam and blow-cream!

I do not trust to my eyes. This reminds me of the bicycle journey with English Bob, New York Bob and me on our bicycle tour from Land's End to John O'Groats in Scotland where English Bob brought us to cafés in which there was this marvellous and best food of completely England. In recollection of it I must order absolutely this excellent meal! The owners of this Cafè look 100% English. For me it is as if I am now in England.

And because in front of this Cafè stands an unusual bicycle, I search in the café the cyclist. He is not to be overlooked and sits in the right corner at the bar with his glass of beer. Thus he has decorated his bicycle: between the spokes stick in the hub of the traversing wheels two yellow tennis-balls. At the handlebar he has fastened many white reflectors on a square board. From the front really nobody can cross him.

After I have finished the tasty scones, I cycle further in remembering the interesting End-to-End-bicycle tour of the year 2000.

Arrived in Echuca, I push my bicycle to the caravan park. To the driving I have no more desire. There a racing cyclist overtakes me, turns round and talks to me completely long. He is professionally a theatre director's teacher. I did not know what this is. „I am already in pension, however, help out still at school. But I would have cycled with pleasure with you with around this gigantic red island Australia. But certainly my wife would have a lot against it“, he says smiling.

On the caravan park I sit in the laundry on the floor and write, while outdoors the cookaburra maintains the people. Also other birds croak and chirp.

Because it is too expensive for me here on this caravan park I decide against one rest day. I need it bitterly.

Hello? Just my eyes have closed by writing. I am so very tired from the journeys of the last days.

31.01.2013: Echuca – Elmore: 52 km

Last night and today early the white cockatoos were keenly and flying. Before the people complained about the pink cockatoos because they talk so loud. But against the white kind the others are still harmless.

Early today I can roll up my tent dryly. On this camping site in Echuca there camps a very nice couple. She is an Italian and he an Australian. They met sometimes by chance in London. Now they already live many years in Italy and, however, are now on regularly holiday in Australia, since both have gone to pension.

Their car stands in Australia with friends – to panel beaters - in the garage. Here in this manner they are always independent and today they would like to go on in the direction of Port Augusta and afterwards southwards after Adelaide. They spend in Australia every year a time of six months by caravan parks.

Today it is like yesterday: totally flat area and virtually generally no wind, no trucks and only three road trains which hit around me a big curve. I wave behind to them every time a thank-you. I believe, they have told this already to everyone by phone.

The scenery around has stubble fields and two big herds of cattle: one from only black and one from the Holsteiner white-black colours race. Seem to me like in Germany.

In Rochester my look falls on the left on a big plastic from poured metal: Oppi, the most famous racing cyclist of Australia! Well, there I stop, I push my bicycle in the nearness and read about his big racing bicycle actions: He had gone not only Paris-Brest-Paris and the Tour de France, but still many other very much big racings. As a result he was ennobled by the English Queen to the "Sir". I hope, while I pat his metal leg that from his energy at least something small a little goes over into me.

While I stand there so and am astonished, a young married couple steps up to me and greets very curiously. It concerns Michael and his French young Mrs. Carroll. They would like to know absolutely, where I am from and where I might go. They take a photo of me with this statue.

On my second leg of the journey I see sometimes again a female, dead kangaroo lying on the back. This looks in such a way, as if the baby from the mother's pocket still wanted to climb out, however, it created no more. Sadly.

The caravan park Heathcote is still 71 km away. Actually, I plan to come still till there. But when the entrance to the town sign Elmore appears, I decide to spend the night here. It concerns a small town. Therefore the caravan park can not be so expensive.

The nice lady behind the bar tells me that her father came from Holland and her mother from Wiesbaden, Germany. Her father was first 15 years when he simply split from home and went to Australia. This was shortly after the second world war.

Here in this foreign country he well adapted himself, learned the English language and dealt with at every work. By chance he got to know his German woman here. They married. Now, unfortunately, the man has already passed away. But the daughter is very proud of him because he was so diligent and had struggled through in the foreign country.

On my question: „Why did he then split as a boy from home?“ – she answers: „His mother was too austere with him. In this manner he could go. He could not stay at home no more.“

And then I am still in German demanded by a man who works here. „Are you from Germany?“

„No, I come from Switzerland. My father owned there a big vehicle park. With these vehicles of Switzerland he also unwound business to the far Germany. Germany is very nice.“

Before I sign up on the caravan park on Elmore, I would like to know the price for a stay overnight. If the price is high, I go on to Heathcote. I receive from the likeable German Dutchwoman the telephone number of the local caravan park and call. Because I can understand the woman at the other end so badly, I hand the listener to the woman behind the bar.

She asks for the overnight stay price and informs her that I am on the move only by the push bike and a small tent. Therefore, I need to pay only $ 10 per night. There I allow to announce that I book for three nights and come immediately.

I am just in the sanitary arrangements. Under the wash basin lies a cockroach on the back. I do not know whether it still lives. As a precaution I do not puff it in. Then maybe it starts thrashing with its many black legs. No, this I can not see. Tonight hopefully it is away. Immediately I put up my tent because the sun has further walked and now my place lies in the shade.

Barely I am ready with it, there it catches outdoors in to attack by storm! I lie down long on the back and hold with both hands, arms, feet and knees the tent wall turned to the storm stable. The storm stops nearly after two hours. The sky moves there. What luck that I am already on the caravan park here and the tent stands.

Here I find out that I left my butter in the fridge two days ago on the camping site. What should I do? In the prison the prisoners lived only on dry bread with salt and water. Why should I also not be able to live on it? The prison passengers would have been certainly gigantically glad about the garlic I have, however, did not get it. But I! Thus I live with dry bread, salt and water and the "delicacy" garlic. I have become a garlic monster. Certainly nobody comes close to me to.

While I stand in the sanitary rooms for the ladies at a board and write, the ladies who "must go" sometimes see me. Besides, there is particularly a nice, older one which says: „You are great!“

I explain to her: „Everybody holds me for mad.“

"No", she thinks, „you are not. I wish sincerely that nothing may happen to you on your big bicycle tour.“

Funnily, to me just occurs that I stank infinitely terribly of garlic. And she has said nothing, and also at short notice has not broken off the entertainment from her side. Hats off!

While I take a shower, I hope, that the storm, if he strikes again, will not push my tent away. Otherwise I would have to catch it again. What an awful thought!

When I leave the sanitary arrangements, outside it is dark. My tent stands loyal still and well-behaved. The panniers, who are standing in it, would also have been too hard to push away. But with the raising of the zipper my hands become wet. It has been raining in the interim. What luck now outdoors it is at least dry.

But cold wind whistles from the right below into my tent. I must change this absolutely. Nevertheless, thus I can not sleep! What should I do? On the left my panniers nicely stand each other lined up. There he can not whistle through. Thus I resolve to put both smaller panniers on the right side of my handlebar bag.

In addition, I own still here my big washing bag and the big bag with my clothes. I put these both parts behind the second small pannier. My breakfast base is crosswise and vertically behind my handlebar bag.

To me it is clear that this will become a very cold night. I must change this. I take in short time all my bicycle clothes from my panniers and draw them over one another. I own only one pair of socks which is a little more warmly than thin from cotton. But the feet are with the small last part of my sleeping bag in the cool bag, so that the wind does not access there.

On the head I turn the yellow poodle's cap with the yellow fleece jacket which I got as a gift from Reni. I pull this as the last layer about everything. Only the zipper of the jacket has given up its mind. It can not move there in front. But better thus as not at all.

Thus I creep carefully into my sleeping-bag, push my feet together into the last part of my sleeping bag, cover still about everything from bottom to the top with the bath towel and pull to me the sleeping-bag over both ears. The wind is locked out. I hit the tent pegs before still everything individually more deeply in the earth. The long string outside the tent against the storm is certain well. Thus: Good night!