Jerilderie to Deniliquin – 56 miles & 51m climbed

Sunday is certainly a day of rest for most in Australia and places shut. But what about my breakfast? I’d noted that the bakery was shut on a Sunday and was advised by a check out assistant, at the local supermarket, that the BP petrol station on the outskirts was the place to go on Sunday morning. This place was a 24/7 truck stop and so the Sabbath was irrelevant. Some place had to be open to fuel the trucks and truckers who barrelled through this part of NSW day and night.

So Tony was a happy boy with a bacon and egg sandwich and some things for lunch.

It was a still, cool morning and I sped along. I knew after about two hours things would change, I’d start to become weary, the heat would arrive and the monotony of this dreary stretch of road would start to pall. There was nothing new in this but the nature of these settlements meant there was nothing for 56 miles to stop for, it was a grind all the way through with nowhere to stop and sit or any shade.

However before I got to this point I had a few cattle to negotiate. These boys and girls (?) were either side of the road and presumably crossing it. With the odd car coming along they kept off the tarmac and I nervously pedalled through them. They were skittish and would break from their grazing into a panic and start running. The chance of a half a ton of meat running into me at 15mph was not a happy prospect.

As I’m cautiously cycling through them up behind me comes an 18 wheeler. Needless to say he’s in no physical danger should los toros charge him. Being a pillock he wants to overtake me, after all he can save a nanosecond on his 300 mile journey if he gets past the cyclist! He does overtake and I continue slowly until clear of the cattle much relieved.

I did mention sponge in my last blog. An old trick for a numb butt is to sit on a car wash sponge. I deployed this down my shorts. It was a kind of fix and life was easier. It also helped that there was no climbing to do. Gradients make you press harder into the saddle as you push on the pedals up a hill.

I’d identified Deniliquin as a place for me to stay two nights in a motel and chill a little. It eventually came into view and so did the Deniliquin Bakery where I treated myself to a Tuscan Chicken pie and a coffee ice cream. Being too early for check in at the motel I cruised around this little town. It looked lovely. A good pick I must say.