Day 509 | Bundaleer Channel: hey, this campsite looks familiar

38 km | zzOz total: 16,521 km

Funny how you can be bamboozled by the Trail at exactly the same spot going both north and south.

Going north I had my Sound of Music experience, seeing the last marker pointing up a smooth rise, no track discernible other than one winding up the hill vaguely with sheep droppings apparent, just a gap in the fence and that sloping paddock with knee high grass.

Solution: just bike off into the unknown, after 800m of random pedalling I stumbled across another marker pointing abstractly down the slope along the fenceline, still no track to be spotted, but fun rumbling at pace, downhill, blindly.

Heading south today, 3 years later, that part was easily negotiated despite the track no more apparent. But at the gap in the fence the marker was just as ambiguous: two options presented themselves.

Option 1, alongside the fenceline, rare 4WDs have created an almost imperceptible track, or, Option 2, downhill, that doesn’t seem right. I spot two bike tyre marks along the fence, has to be very fresh after the rain a couple of nights ago.

To curtail this story, I tried that fenceline route, no markers, eventually pushing my caravan to the top of the hill, getting steep up there, those surfboards strapped to the feet unable to gain traction, you can imagine the grunting and carrying on.

Clearly not the way. OK, I only wasted 45 minutes on that detour but it was quite the view all the way back to Jamestown at the top.

Option 2 seemed obvious after the first 100 m, plus it was the start of a decent downhill, just another locked gate to jump with all my baggage.

Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spot two other cyclists, on unladen mountain bikes, now I see they are familiar faces, Glenn and Guylaine, how many times can you meet others out here on the obscure Mawson?

Well, in this case three: first on a 5 km circuit walk spotting Yellow Footed Rock Wallabies at Warren Gorge; later just as I was leaving Melrose having ground out about 2 km of granny style slope, we just stopped, farmer style, in the middle of the road for, was it an hour, they were driving to a mountain bike only trail, occasional passing traffic shooting dirty looks; and now, another few days later. They are on a Geraldton, WA, to Canberra transcontinental journey, 3 bikes strapped to the roof of the 4WD and the only people I have ever met who have volunteered the information that they enjoyed walking the 125 km Northwest Circuit of Stewart Island, one of my favourite haunts.

They mentioned one familiar story from a 97 year old woman they knew: better to have some regrets from things done than having regrets from what’s not been done in a lifetime.