Mildura to Paringa – 87 miles & 391m climbed

There was no escaping that the stretch from here to Adelaide had little to see and big distances between the towns. I hadn’t easily completed long distances on this tour because of the heat and now it just had to be done. I left the motel at 5.50am, well before daybreak. To accomplish this meant fitting lights.

I’m very reluctant to cycle in the dark because of safety but on Mildura’s residential streets it was quiet (and cold 12°C!) and seemingly safe. There were a few joggers and cars about. I thought if I left so early I’d minimise my exposure to the heat and given that it was Sunday the A20 wouldn’t be busy.

As I get to a junction to join this main artery road my mobile buzzes: a WhatsApp message. I hadn’t spoken to Anna as I’d wanted be off. It must be her. However, I stopped to check it. It was from Lyndon, a fellow music scribe and a kind supporter of my travel blogs. He passed on the information that an American music podcaster, friend, ‘good egg’ and seriously ill man had passed away. He had an aggressive cancer and it had taken him in weeks. I think he was only around 60 and had retired to pursue some hobbies and now this. Awful. Another friend and close friend of my wife had, the week before, advised that she was dealing with cancer again. I’m so lucky to do this but the real world will always intrude. With this sadness I pedalled on deep in thought.

I complained about the quality of the the hard shoulder to Mildura but from Mildura it was fine and I sped on and by my first stop at 9.30am I had 36 miles ‘in the bank’. I stopped at a tatty truck stop and had a coffee and sausage roll. I’m afraid most snacks in Australia involve beef, pork or chicken, oh and of course, cheese. Naturally none of this is fresh but nicely processed and out of the freezer.

Now this diet is very much an American one. The Australian large distances from fresh food opportunities, the need for fast food and the tastes of the customer are adjacent. Also, in terms of ethnicity, so are the proprietors: Indian. They are prodigious acquirers of truck stops, small supermarket franchises and hotels. It’s always men over 30 years old working all the hours available in these distant places. I salute their industry.

(Sandwich update. I bought one from Subway the night before. Tuna, of course. By the time I got to it. It was maybe 4/10. Message ends.)

My destination was in South Australia, where I gained half an hour due to it being a different time zone. As a State they are vigilant and determined to stop the import of a certain type of fruit fly. This fly lays its eggs in fruit and so you cannot bring fruit or vegetables across the border. Dutifully, at an earlier Rest Stop, I ate my banana and nectarine before approaching the inspection point on the road. I was pleased to be waved through but given there were lanes for trucks, camper vans, caravans and cars I did remonstrate that if they were taking this control matter seriously there should be a bicycle lane. Obviously they thought the heat was getting to me and smiled weakly.

Anyway I cycled on and by lunchtime I reached a town, Paringa. Here it was (Sunday) sleepy and mid 30°s and I chose to camp even though the local motel was attractively priced. My Indian host said my pitch would be A$45. I disagreed and pointed out that I didn’t need a ‘powered’ site. I hadn’t had space in my luggage for a TV, air con unit, fridge freezer and microwave. He saw my point of view and reduced it to A$35.

The site was well appointed but terribly hot. I tried lying down in the tent to discover it was a sauna. From here I went and jumped in the small swimming pool to cool down. After this I gave serious thought to making some dinner at the site ‘cook house’ but the haze of flies helped me make a decision to go across the road to the pub for a meal and pint.

On the next table there was a couple from Adelaide. I asked about whether there’d be camping at a town further up the road, Blanchetown? They said yes, as did a lady I phoned in Blanchetown and so did someone at the bakery the next morning. I climbed into my small abode feeling happy about today’s ride and that tomorrow looked straightforward. Oh how wrong you can be…