This is the teaser for a 4×60 min TV series about my recent Breaking the Cycle Across Australia expedition.

WE ARE LOOKING FOR INVESTORS

Synopsis: Explorer and expedition cyclist, Kate Leeming faced continual curveballs – a broken collarbone, widespread unseasonal flooding, major mechanical breakdowns, extreme weather, rough tracks, faint paths, COVID-19 interstate border closures and exhaustion – to make what is probably the first fatbike journey from Australia’s most easterly point, Cape Byron, to its most westerly, Steep Point.

Completed on 19th September 2023, Kate’s voyage of discovery, 8617km through the rugged interior, was to gain a close, grounded perspective of the outback while connecting with and listening to the stories and aspirations of First Nations elders and their remote communities.

KATE LEEMING

The post Across the Red Heart – a fantastic video in the making appeared first on overland-europe.

My apologies for taking so long to publish the final blog – here it is:

Having just completed an intense week of cycling to cover the 731km from Newman to Mount Augustus through the East Pilbara and Ashburton regions, and with the prospect of a similar challenge to reach the finish at Steep Point, the temptation was to have a complete rest day camping beside Mount Augustus. However, I had planned to climb Burringurrah, as it is known by the local Wajarri people, and would have regretted missing the opportunity. The enormous inselberg (lone mountain) rises 717m above the eroding plains, 1105m above sea level. 

To beat the heat, Mark, Russell and I made an early start, setting off from the head of the hiking trail at 5.30am, guided by the light of our head torches. The first 1.2km were of moderate difficulty, and as the early morning light diffused the darkness, I could gradually make out the rocky trail. 

The next 2.8km involved a real scramble as we ascended a further 400m up a steep, rocky path. Every so often we stopped for a drinks break, to film or simply to take in the beautiful surroundings. As I climbed higher and the sun appeared through the morning clouds, the warm, orange colours of the mighty sandstone rock became more intense and fiery. 

I had been struggling with a painful lower back when walking (from cycling 7-8 hours a day without enough rest or stretching), and I had been worrying about how I would manage on the climb carrying a small backpack up the mountain. To my relief, it was manageable, so I pressed on, trying to adapt to this different form of activity. 

After about 3km, the gradient rounded off and the second half of the 6.25km climb became much easier, until the final scramble to reach the summit. It was a wonderful feeling to be atop the world’s largest rock (monocline), 1107m above the plains. In the distance were much lower hills, gradually succumbing to the same forces of erosion that had also shaped Mt Augustus. We celebrated our climb and spent about 45 minutes relaxing and taking in the views. The vastness and subtle colours of the landscape were difficult to capture from behind the lens, but we gave it our best shot.

The return journey was the part I was dreading because of my damaged knee. I had brought my special knee brace to try to offload some of the stresses on my knee during the descent. While it offered some protection, I really struggled over the steep section and had to work my way back to base patiently and painfully. 

Burringurrah was an incredibly important place for the Wajarri people, particularly in times of drought. Water flowing off the 10km-long rock has formed permanent springs around its base, supporting the area’s biodiversity. This more abundant environment has provided the Wajarri with food and water for thousands of years, and the many caves made natural shelters.

DAY 95 | 110 KM

There was no time to rest, as I had to keep moving and average 115km a day for the next four days to make reaching the finish more achievable. On the evening after the Mt Augustus climb, a violent gust of wind actually broke my tent, causing it to collapsed on top of me. I had to sleep on the back seat of Neil’s vehicle.

That event was a bit of an omen for the day ahead, Day 95. When I set off, there was a moderate headwind, but I could still progress at a reasonable speed. After the first 30km, the wind steadily increased, until I was down to 12km/hr in the powerful gusts. Just before my first break, Martin’s drone was caught in a strong gust of wind; like an aeroplane on a doomed flight path, I watched it crash out of control into a tree. Fortunately, it survived with only a few superficial chips to the propellers.

About 50km west of Mt Augustus, we reached the Old Bangemall Inn, established in 1896 to serve gold prospectors. There, we joined a section of the Charles Kingsford Smith Mail Run. Over the next two days, we followed it for 240km as far as Gascoyne Junction. In 1924, fresh from a stint as a pilot for Australia’s first commercial airline, Charles Kingsford Smith and Keith Anderson bought a truck and set up business as the Gascoyne Transport Company. Kingsford Smith figured that, with his mechanical knowledge and the new-fangled technology of motorised transport, he could out-do the camel trains and horse wagons on many inland delivery routes. He also thought that, if he was right, the money he would make would finance his dream – of being the first to fly across the Pacific.

By the second stint of the day, I was totally struggling with the wind, the heat (35°C), and being sore from using different muscles during the hike. It was a case of just hanging in there and making the most of any shelter I could find from the wind. To make it easier mentally, I broke the afternoon into smaller 15km sessions to make it easier mentally.

Right when the team thought we should stop, I had to insist to put in another 8km and at least cover 110km for that day. I was mindful that the wind could play a big role in these final days, so I wanted to get as many kilometres on the board as I possibly could.

DAY 96 | 120 KM

I woke up feeling pretty sore all over, particularly in my back and hips. This had been the case for about a week. My knee was still swollen from the descent of Mt Augustus. I am used to managing the knee problem and carrying on regardless. However, the back/hip issue is something that will require rest (after the expedition) and some physio attention. The good news was that the weather was kinder, with only a gentle breeze and cooler temperatures (29°C).

The gravel Cobra-Dairy Creek Road was pretty good quality, and after only a few kilometres, I reached the Yinnetharra Station homestead and the mighty Gascoyne River. Although I was still hundreds of kilometres from the mouth of the Gascoyne, the ephemeral river was already impressive. From there, all the way to Gascoyne Junction, 180km away, I crossed many large creeks lined with majestic river gums that were tributaries of the Gascoyne River. The volume of water flowing through these creeks and down the Gascoyne almost defies my imagination.

After passing the Dairy Creek Station homestead, I turned west onto the Carnarvon-Mullewa Road towards Gascoyne Junction. This route is a part of the Wool Wagon Pathway, a stock route for graziers to drove their sheep and transport wool to the port to sell.

DAYS 97,98 | 118 KM, 117KM

To my surprise, sections of the Carnarvon-Mullewa Road had been sealed, and with a favourable tailwind, I reached Gascoyne Junction in quick time. Gascoyne Junction is located where the Gascoyne and Lyons rivers join. The biggest town we have seen since Paraburdoo, the community has a population of 149 people! We made it a lunch stop before heading south on the Pimbee Road.

For the second half of Day 97 and all of Day 98, I wound my way through station country in the heat (36°C), first along the Pimbee Road. We camped in a gravel pit near the abandoned Towrana Station, before turning off onto the Meedo Road the next day.

The Meedo Road was smaller, a little sandier, and more challenging between the Pimbee Road and Meedo Station, but also more interesting. To the east of the homestead, I passed through a landscape dotted with salt pans and low sand dunes. The Wooramel River, another impressive ephemeral river, was a highlight just east of the homestead.

Between the homestead and the Northwest Coastal Highway, the quality of the road really improved, but the southwesterly wind strengthened in the afternoon, making it very challenging to reach my goal of Wooramel Roadhouse. I was getting pretty tired and just tried to keep the pedals turning.

DAY 99 | 107 KM

With only three days to go, I was getting quite excited. However, the forecast of the notorious southwesterly trade winds had me worried. Leaving the Wooramel Roadhouse on the highway I had to push into it head on for 75km before turning west to enter the Shark Bay World Heritage Area. Turning the corner, the southwesterly wasn’t such an issue, as the scrubland provided some shelter from what was then a crosswind.

Upon reaching Hamelin Pool, it was a relief to see the ocean again—for the first time since Cape Byron at the start of this expedition. Hamelin Pool supports a unique ecology because of its hyper-saline waters. The microbial mats and stromatolites located on its southern beaches are among the features that earned the region its World Heritage listing.

Microbial mats and stromatolites are diverse and complex ecosystems where different species of bacteria and other microbes work together in symbiotic communities. Under certain conditions, these communities can trap particles and create stone. When this happens, microbial mats become microbialites. Sometimes microbialites form taller, layered structures called stromatolites. The stromatolites and microbial mats in the shallows of Hamelin Pool are among the most diverse in the world, offering a glimpse into what marine ecosystems looked like three billion years ago. Therefore, microbial mats have been around for over 75% of the Earth’s history! Over the last two billion years, cyanobacteria in microbial mats influenced evolution by breathing oxygen into the atmosphere. Without these primitive life forms, we would not have evolved.

I had stopped off at Hamelin Pool and visited the stromatolites during my Great Australian Cycle Expedition in 2004, before the viewing boardwalks were destroyed in a cyclone. This time I had to be content watching the sunset over Hamelin Pool and the stromatolites, whose habitat is the shallow waters, just off the beach.

DAY 100 | 107 KM

From Hamelin Pool, I continued along the Denham Road for about 12km until I reached the turning towards Useless Loop (salt mines) and Steep Point – 148km to go.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the first 22km of the sandy gravel road had been sealed. The route was like a rollercoaster, as the road bisected the direction of the sand ridges. As I pedalled west, the surrounding bush gradually disappeared, leaving there me exposed to powerful gusts of wind, especially when I crossed the salt pans and later reached the coastal heathland.

The whole of the penultimate day was a battle: against the wind, the corrugated, hilly road, and my extremely tired legs. I had to get to Steep Point the following day, so there was no choice except to push on so I was within “striking distance”. We had been aiming for a tiny camp spot we’d heard about, but there was no shelter anywhere – it was all coastal heathland, the scrub no more than a metre high. It was so windy, we didn’t even try to pitch my tent. Mark’s tent was pegged to the ground with every peg we had and tied to the vehicles. The vehicles gave enough protection for us to cook – just – and I spent my last night sleeping in the back of Neil’s vehicle. It wasn’t how I’d imagined the last night of the expedition to be.

DAY 101 | 50 KM

I had been warned that the ride through Edel Land to Steep Point was going to be a big challenge. I was prepared mentally for the fight, even if my body was exhausted. After a few kilometres, I passed the end of the well-maintained Useless Loop Road – at the Useless Loop (salt mine) turn-off – and immediately the road turned into horrific corrugations and mostly sandy conditions (except for the salt pans).

In the first sections, there was just nowhere for me to cycle as the whole road was a mess. I continually tried to find the smoother sections on the very edge, but often I would be swiping against the scrub that encroached onto the track. Mostly, I just had to absorb the bumps. After 18km, we reached the big sand dunes, and I dropped my tyre pressure right down to about 5psi. At this pressure, the fatbike tyres really grip the sand. The all-wheel drive system remained switched on and gave a little more traction when the back wheel slipped.

I had not had to walk my bike over any sand dunes on this journey so far, and I was determined to keep it that way, even though these dunes were totally chopped up by vehicles. There were approximately 7km of giant, soft sand dunes with steep ascents and descents, but I managed to pedal the whole route. From there, the track took an undulating, bumpy course towards the beach. We had one final tea break to take it all in before tackling the last 16km – along the beach, then back onto the track. We checked in at the ranger’s house and then turned towards the country’s most westerly tip. At times, it felt as if the rollercoaster would never end. These sharp climbs served to drain every last drop of energy from my body.

Steep Point is an incredibly beautiful yet wild place, completely exposed to the elements, the cliffs drop sheer into the Indian Ocean. Large waves continually crashed into the rocks, and the wind created white caps on the ocean for as far as I could see. It was a challenge just to stay on the bike.

I reached the sign at Steep Point at around 1pm, and we spent some time celebrating and filming the moment. I felt a strong symmetry in finishing my Breaking the Cycle in Africa expedition at Cape Hafun, Somalia, (Africa’s most easterly point) and the end of this continental crossing at Steep Point (Australia’s most westerly point). The two landmarks are connected by the Indian Ocean, and both of my journeys ended in similarly windy conditions with a sheer drop to the ocean. As with the end of the African expedition, I struggled to lift and balance my bike in the gusts of wind.

All expeditions have their challenges, but never have any of my journeys presented as many curveballs as this one – my broken collarbone and then interstate COVID-19 restrictions in 2021, a month’s delay before we could start this one due to a health issue with a support team member, late rains blocking the roads and further delaying the 2023 start, the unseasonal flooding of Eyre Creek preventing me cycling across the Simpson Desert and along the Finke River, the heavy rains that blocked the Oodnadatta Track and forced me to take the only sealed route all the way south to Port Augusta, a three-week delay due to a major vehicle breakdown near Coober Pedy, and several other problems that required me to adapt my schedule/route. Somehow, through all of these issues, the we found a way through to finish only four days later than my original plan. I’d had to adapt the route and cycle more intensively than I had planned, but the adventure found its own path, and the key purposes of the expedition have been achieved. That makes me very proud of this one.

We drove to Denham to film an amazing initiative by the Malgana people of Shark Bay – that will be covered separately.

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #19: Mount Augustus to Steep Point appeared first on overland-europe.

Originally, I had planned to take two days off in Newman, but because we lost three weeks due to the vehicle breakdown earlier in the expedition, I had to reduce the contingency days in my schedule to ensure I had a chance of finishing the journey on time. With only one day off the bike in Newman, everything felt rather rushed.

I had meticulously planned the next section from Newman to Mount Augustus, but there was an issue with that route. Although Google showed that my plan was feasible, it transpired that the section through the decommissioned West Angelas Mine, which is owned by Rio Tinto, was blocked. Having unsuccessfully tried to connect with the relevant people at Rio Tinto to ask for permission, I started searching for alternative routes. However, all alternative routes on Google Maps were many hundreds of kilometres longer, and I could not afford to take extra days.

Suzanne at Turee Creek Station was extremely helpful. It turned out that, with permission from three neighbouring stations along our route, there would be an excellent shortcut. The other option was much further. Suzanne could get us through the first two—Prairie Downs and her own station, Turee Creek—but Minina was uncertain. I decided to set off anyway and take a punt that Minina Station would let us through.

Suzanne directed us through the shortcut that saved us about 40 km, passing through Prairie Downs. The route out of Newman was complex and rough in places, with lots of stones. After 20 km, we came to a locked gate for which Suzanne had given us the code. Once passed the gate, the road surface improved significantly.

After 70 km, we reached the entrance to the Prairie Downs homestead and turned right onto a well-maintained shire road in the direction of the Turee Creek homestead.

Suzanne had tried to contact the owners of Minina Station on our behalf, but on arriving at Turee Creek, I learned that we could not get permission to cross Minina Station. It is owned and operated by a husband-and-wife team who were understaffed and in the middle of mustering; they were not prepared to open their series of locked gates for us.

We stayed in dongas at the Turee Creek homestead, where Suzanne pulled out the station maps to explain the alternative route—our only option for moving forward, passing through various station tracks on the way to Paraburdoo. This was a significant detour from my planned route, adding a couple of extra days of cycling.

Yet again, an unplanned adventure turned out to be one of the most memorable experiences of the journey. It was a privilege to explore this spectacular region of eastern Pilbara, closely aligned to the Tropic of Capricorn. Turee Creek Station covers about 670,000 acres and includes two blocks separated by crown land. Even though the track between the two blocks was well maintained by the station and mining exploration activities, it was not marked on any maps. The only way to find it was on a satellite map and with Suzanne’s directions. 

DAY 88 | 114 KM

After leaving Turee Creek homestead, I cycled alongside the creek and the Kunderong Range for 114 km, before heading north across the crown land to the second block. Towards the end of the day, I entered some spectacular hilly terrain that Suzanne had mentioned would be tough going. We camped beside a dry creek bed.

DAY 89 | 95 KM

According to Suzanne, the first 62 km of the next day were going to be challenging. After crossing a wide, dry, stony creek bed, I entered a region of purple ironstone hills. The open landscape was clad with spinifex grass—pretty much the only type of grass hardy enough to survive the extreme heat eminating from the ground for many months of the year. The road traversed the range, and I struggled to pedal up some very steep inclines.

After the morning break (after 31 km), I was confronted with the main pass. The track doesn’t have an official name, but Suzanne said they usually refer to it as “The Cut.” This is because a lot of effort has been made to grade the road and create a deep cutting at the pass to make it drivable. The descent from the pass was exceptionally steep, so I was careful to keep the brakes depressed to control it.

The shortest route to Paraburdoo was through the mine site, but Suzanne had tried unsuccessfully to get permission and an escort. This meant that we had to cycle/drive an extra 34 km around it.

Paraburdoo is another young mining town, this time owned by Rio Tinto.

DAY 90 | 119 KM

The route out of Paraburdoo was indirect but, at least I had a sealed road for most of the day. First, I headed north towards Tom Price, and then northwest towards Nanutarra, before reaching the turn-off to the Ashburton Downs-Meekatharra Road.

I had entered the Ashburton River basin, one of the five large ephemeral river systems that divide the Pilbara region into sections resembling the segments of an orange (the others being the De Grey, Fortescue, Gascoyne and Murchison rivers).

The quality of the Ashburton Downs-Meekatharra Road was pretty smooth, and I made good progress over the gravel.

The weather on the last couple of days en route to Mount Augustus was very warm: 36 degrees Celsius in the shade with a hot northerly wind.

It was the last day until Mount Augustus—only another 80 km away. I arrived excited to climb the giant monocline, the world’s largest rock (2.5 times the size of Uluru).

Eight days to go, and I’m getting enthusiastic about finishing!

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #18: Off the Map appeared first on overland-europe.

DAYS 81, 82 | 220 KM (113 KM, 107 KM)

From Kumarina Roadhouse it was 220km to Jigalong. I first took the Great Northern Highway heading north for 50km before turning off on to the Jigalong Mission Road. 

Some of the embedded thorns started to work their way out of my tyres on the hot tarmac. When large thorns came out, the sealant bubbled like foam, the hole too big to close automatically. Then I would have to stop, ensure the tyre was pumped tight and spin the wheel for as long as it took to force the latex strands in the sealant to plug the hole. This would usually take about 10 minutes.

The Jigalong Mission Road is now a little-used gravel road but in pretty good condition. I had to push into a stiff headwind though, and the days are starting to get hot; the direct overhead sun in the early afternoon was very draining. Only Neil, Russell and Mark came for this section, the others drove directly to Newman, chiefly because they had vehicle parts to receive and repairs to do. 

We camped in some beautiful gibber country, 9km short of where Savory Creek crosses the road.

Savory Creek flows into Lake Disappointment in the Little Sandy Desert. I had crossed the hyper-saline waterway during my journey up the Canning Stock Route in 2004, so it was an interesting landmark for me. I took a short walk along the creek. The underground water must have been plentiful because it supported a significant stand of ghost gums. The ground surface however, was covered with a crust of salt even this far away from Lake Disappointment.

I battled into another very strong northeasterly breeze for the whole of the next morning. After 52km, we came to a fork in the road and an old sign pointing to the right directing us to Jigalong, 34 miles away. There was also an old mailbox. This junction was the point where the mail used to be delivered to the Jigalong community – so it was quite an expedition to get the mail for the town!

The track deteriorated to sand, sections of deep washaways, stones and as we neared Jigalong, corrugations. I had imagined that reaching the community would be fairly straightforward, but this section of the road, now only used by locals coming out to hunt, turned the afternoon into a very strenuous challenge – not only for me on the bike, but for Neil and Russell driving. I could cycle just about as fast as the vehicles could travel on these rugged surfaces. It was very hot, too!

About 12 km out of Jigalong, I got a rare puncture – basically because I had dropped the tyre pressure to get through the sand, there was less pressure to keep the prickles already embedded in my thorn-encrusted tyres (from the Rabbit-proof Fence ride) at bay. I had received so many punctures that I had used up most of the sealant in the front tyre, until the tyre finally deflated. We were able to pump the tyre up so I could finish the ride into the town in the dark again. The following day, Russell and I added a large amount of new sealant and removed any remaining thorns. That did the trick.

Thanks to the CEO and the four people from the KJ Ranger programme, Chris, Kerry, Alex and Jackie, our time in Jigalong was very special and well worth the extra effort to meet some of the community. Kerry very kindly put us up at her home, so we had a great base for the two days.

Jigalong was established in 1907, as the location for a maintenance and rations store for workmen constructing the Rabbit-proof Fence. In the 1930s, the site was used for camel-breeding, but this use was abandoned once the motor car superseded the camel as a mode of transport. In 1947, the land was granted to the Apostolic Church which used it as a Christian mission and set up the Aboriginal community. The land that Jigalong is located on originally belonged to the Nyiyaparli people. The Nyiyaparli then granted the area to the mission and eventually there was an agreement with the Martu, traditionally nomadic people of the Western Deserts, who were removed from their land to live at the mission. The land was returned to the Australian government in 1969 as an Aboriginal reserve, and was granted to the Martu people in 1974. As of the last census, there were 300 people living in the community, though many lead transient lives (in the country, visiting relatives, attending funerals, etc), so there aren’t always that many around at one time.

DAY 83 | JIGALONG

The school had their sports day happening when we arrived – an event over two days with the Parnngurr community school joining the local students for the competition. We didn’t have much chance to interact with the students, but we did get to meet a few people, one being a community leader, Walter Dalbin.

Chris, Kerry and Jackie (KJ Rangers) were able to organise for Mark and I to meet Jigalong’s answer to the “Golden Girls”, the Sailor sisters who are highly respected Elders in the community. Lizzie, Julie and Brenda agreed to meet us and talk about their story on camera. They were very generous with their time as they had another important commitment.

Lizzie, the oldest sister (73 years old), led the conversation; the other two occasionally chimed in with a comment. Lizzie said she was born at Ethell Creek station, but had spent most of her life in Jigalong, living in the mission dormitories. She admitted that some of the discipline was very harsh and difficult for her to endure, but she could also see the benefits of having her education, to set her up for life. As a small girl she recalls her parents living in fear that she and her sisters would be taken away like many other children had been previously. She said her parents would come and take her out of school to protect her from being taken and then the missionaries would come and find the girls and bring them back again. Lizzie said this was a very difficult time, and there was always a very real fear of being taken. Once they were old enough, like most children who were educated at the mission, they would be employed by the local station owners as station hands or to do domestic work.

Before leaving to drive to Parnngurr (Cotton Creek) 243km away, for an important meeting relating to a new native title determination, Lizzie agreed to take us out to show us the Rabbit-proof Fence near the community. We piled into Jackie’s vehicle and drove for about 15 minutes, Lizzie giving directions from the back seat.

DAY 84 | JIGALONG + 35km TO JIGALONG CREEK CAMP

Before leaving, we also wanted to see where the old mission site was – about 15 minutes drive from the present community. Walter Dalbin agreed to show us the site – he had never lived there when it was operating, but he knew enough about the mission to show us. Set beside a creek, the site was chosen because of its abundant water supply. The mission was self-sufficient. They could grow everything they needed there. As Walter led us around, there wasn’t that much to see above the high grass – we could see where the manager’s house was, the vegetable garden, large water tanks, stock yards and, in the far northeast corner, a small grave yard graveyard containing the two graves of the missionaries.

To ensure I reached Newman on time, I had to cycle 35km that afternoon, just as far as Jigalong Creek. I felt our time in Jigalong had been very worthwhile, but all too soon we had to be back on the road. We said our goodbyes to Kerry, Chris and Alex and set off.

Day 85 | JIGALONG CREEK TO NEWMAN – 133 KM

Somehow, the wind direction had changed from a north-easterly to a south westerly, ensuring I had a headwind both to and from Jigalong. It was a brutal day; the road was well formed, but the coarse gravel made it tough to cycle on most of the time. I just had to keep pedalling and endure it. The final 62km were on the bitumen Marble Bar Road, but thanks to the headwind, I couldn’t cycle much faster than I did on the gravel. In the end, I arrived in the dark at 6.45pm using the headlights of Russell’s vehicle to see.

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #17: Jigalong and the Rabbit-Proof Fence (Part II) appeared first on overland-europe.

DAY 77 (DAY 1 ON THE RABBIT-PROOF FENCE) | 88 KM

It was great to have a bed for the night at Cunyu Station, a pastoral lease of around one million acres with a carrying capacity of 2800 cattle. That didn’t seem many to me, but the government stipulates how many grown cattle a property can sustainably carry without damaging the environment.

Between Peter Gum, the owner, and Joy and Tom, (who are seasoned volunteers helping with the day-to-day running of the station during the hectic mustering time), we received our instructions to travel west across the property to the Rabbit-proof Fence, which forms part of Cunyu’s boundary with Ned’s Creek Station.

I set off in a westerly direction along the Bridle Face Road, passing Shearing Shed Well and Yards after 23km. The only complaint I have with a tailwind is that the flies are much more annoying as they crawl over my face, wriggle in my ears, nestle under my sunglasses, and fly into my mouth and nose as I try to breathe. It was ten times worse when I had to stop, as I did at Shearing Shed Well, because I was immediately enshrouded by a cloud of maddening bush flies.

Turning off towards Ned’s Creek Station on Davies Bore Track, the wildflowers were magnificent, especially on this lesser track.

After 11km following the Davies Bore Track I reached the boundary both of the Wiluna Shire and between Cunyu and Ned’s Creek Station – the Rabbit-proof Fence.

The Rabbit-proof Fences were built over a six-year period between 1901 and 1907 to contain a plague of rabbits and other agricultural pests that were advancing from the eastern states out of Western Australia’s pastoral land. There were three fences in Western Australia; the original Fence No.1 that crosses the state from near Ravensthorpe in the south to Pardoo Station (just east of Port Hedland) on the Pilbara coast. Fence No.2 is smaller and further west and Fence No.3 is much smaller running from Kalbarri on the west coast to the east. When the Fence No.1 was completed, it was the longest unbroken fence in the world (1833km). The three fences total 3256km.

Rabbits were introduced to Australia with the First Fleet but became a problem when settler Thomas Austin released 24 rabbits into the wild in 1859 believing a few rabbits would do no harm and give the region a “touch of home”, and be fun for a spot of hunting. The environment was ideal for rabbits which had virtually no natural predators and they quickly became out of control and multiplied into plague proportions. Fearing that the Western Australian pastoralists would be devastated by the advancing rabbit plague that had already eaten its way through the eastern states, the WA government commissioned the construction of the fences.

The fences were maintained by inspectors – four inspectors would be responsible for an 800km section and 25 boundary riders who regularly patrolled 160km sections, initially by riding bicycles along the fence, then by riding camels, or camels hauling buggies. In 1910, a car was trialled but was subject to constant punctures and rendered useless in these conditions (as were bicycles). There were service depots located along the fence, one of them being Jigalong.

The Rabbit-proof Fence was never very effective. By 1902, rabbits had breached Fence No.1 before its construction was completed. Fence No.2 did largely keep rabbits out of farmland, but it too was breached and the only way that rabbits were eventually controlled was when the cruel myxomatosis disease was introduced – it caused blindness in rabbits and they died due to lack of food and water.

I grew up in the WA country and was aware of the Rabbit-proof Fence (RPF) as a child, however much of the world got to learn about the RPF after the 2002 internationally acclaimed film, The Rabbit-proof Fence – the story of three Aboriginal children who were stolen from their parents by the authorities and taken to Moore River Native Settlement, escaped and found their way back home to Jigalong by following the RPF (see map above for the girls’ route in black, from Moore River to Jigalong). The film was very successful in raising awareness of the Stolen Generations and the Rabbit-proof Fence to most people is representative of their plight.

Having been aware of the RPF since I was a child, and aware of the story of the three girls walking the RPF, my plan was to cycle beside a section of the RPF, knowing that it has mostly fallen into disrepair, and follow the story through to Jigalong. This was not going to be simple like it would have been for the early RPF cyclists because in the main there are no tracks, or at least nothing has been maintained for more than 70 years. In 2016 and 2017 there were two walking expeditions, but you will soon see why no one has cycled any of it in modern times.

I set off along the east side of the fence – the fence initially was in good shape because it was still in use as the boundary fence between Cunyu and Ned’s Creek. The rabbit netting is buried about 15cm to deter rabbits from burrowing under the fence. I passed through bush decorated by beautiful, colourful displays of wildflowers. The old maintenance track here was faint and very hard to see. After 18km, the support team could go no further. The next section, through Nabberu Lakes and up to Simpson’s Well, I had to do alone. On advice from both station managers, the Nabberu Lakes were likely to be dangerously soft for vehicles and the track was non-existent.

After a quick lunch, we parted – the team had to drive 143km around the lakes, through Ned’s Creek Station and then navigate to Simpson’s Well. I had roughly 35km to cover in four hours to reach Simpson’s Well before dark. Under normal circumstances, this should have been a breeze, but there was no guarantee as for the condition of the route – no one had been through for quite a few years, and definitely no one had cycled it more about a 120 years! As I set off it felt like I were about to venture around to the dark side of the moon!

Immediately, I had to cross one salty clay pan after another, with sand ridges in between. The route was completely overgrown with clumps of saltbush. The old path beside the fence was sandy and pockmarked with animal tracks. Animals tend to move up and down the fence line. I often found myself pedalling through high grass that masked the sandy, uneven surface. I was basically cycling roughshod, just trying to keep the pedals turning in a low gear, and taking all the bumps like body-blows. It was a serious workout for the upper body, and it took my full concentration just to pick a path – often these were animal tracks – to get through.

After a few kilometres, the old rabbit netting and wooden posts were replaced by an electric fence, obviously to keep larger animals (not rabbits) out. Sometimes, the opposite side of the fence looked like a clearer path, and I found a spot where I could crawl dragging the bike under the electric fence (very carefully).

After about 11km, I came across my first serious obstacle, a large lake with deep water! The fence just continued straight through – the lakes aren’t always flooded, in fact mostly they are dry ephemeral lakes.

I had to find a way through. The east was too wet, but the west side looked a possibility. There was a maze of different leads of water – I followed some sandy beaches and around the bays and realised I was going to have to cross somewhere. I picked my spot, took my shoes off and carried my bike through. One section towards the end of the crossing was exceptionally soft with sediment and I nearly slipped in. The water was up to my hips and I just managed to keep most of the bike out of the salt water. I followed a few more boggy beaches and navigated back to the fence. I had probably cycled an extra 2km and used up precious time. I started to worry what other obstacles were ahead of me.

It was for good reason – there was another lake in my path. This time, I managed to work my way through the puzzle without another dip in the lake, but it was a close call as there were several sections that were boggy, slippery mud.

A little further along the fence, I picked up a recent set of tracks from a station vehicle, no more than two weeks old. It gave me confidence that there would be nothing ahead of me that a vehicle couldn’t get through, no more water obstacles.

At 20km into my challenge, the electric fence did a right-angle turn, which was confusing because the RPF was meant to be a straight line. There was a better track ahead of me, but no fence visible. I managed to contact Martin via satellite phone, and we decided it would be best to follow the track. A kilometre or so later, the ruins of the original fence appeared and the odd fence post and fragments of netting, with barbed wire occasionally strewn across the road. I had made the right decision.

I finally came to the first bore, but then the fence was hard to find again. Once I picked it up again, I daren’t stray too far from the fence. Everything was overgrown – it was difficult to find anything resembling a track. If I followed a track away from the fence, I would lose sight of it – often just the odd post or piece of wire. I had to negotiate massive washaways, grass taller than my bike, trees blocking my path, stoney hills – and I was running out of daylight.

Finally I made it to Simpson’s Well and was relieved to see the team. I was pretty tired, but it was a great adventure! My tyres looked more like a hedgehog, with probably a hundred thorns embedded in them, and there was grass wrapped around the drive train. My gears were blocked and no longer shifting properly.

DAY 79 (DAY 2 RPF) | 63 KM

There was a rough track for the 4km out from Simpson’s Well which was easy to navigate, but after that, the fence kept disappearing. After a few more kilometres, I decided to wait for the team, as I was losing a lot of time just trying to find the fence. I thought it would be better if we travelled together.

The route was incredibly rough, but I could progress at least as fast as the vehicles much of the time. In their vehicles, the drivers were much higher than me and could more easily see the where the track should be above the grass. I had to make my way over and through the grass, swapping from one wheel mark to the other constantly – over sand, through washaways and creeks.

We crossed into Marymia Station – Jack, the manager, had been very helpful when I called to ask for his permission. The RPF adventure was starting to take its toll on the vehicles. The most serious issue occurred when the trailer hitch snapped off. Fortunately, Neil had a spare on his vehicle and the incredibly skilled team fixed the problem in good time.

DAY 80 (DAY 3 ON THE RPF) | 71 KM

Given the pressure of time and the toll the RPF route was having on the vehicles, I decided to turn away from the RPF at Beyondie, then cycle to Jigalong via the Jigalong Mission Road. My support team had backed two women walking the RPF in 2017 – they travelled further along it, but had to pull out due to the fire danger of moving through two-metre-high spinifex grass. It took them three days longer to get back to Beyondie.

Part II to Jigalong coming soon!

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #16: The Rabbit-Proof Fence – Part I appeared first on overland-europe.

During my Great Australian Cycle Expedition in 2004, I stopped for a couple of day’s rest in Wiluna in between finishing riding the Gunbarrel Highway and starting the Canning Stock Route. The owner of Wiluna’s Club Hotel put me up and took Greg Yeoman (who was finishing his 4-month participation in the expedition in Wiluna) out for a guided tour of the area. 

Arriving in Wiluna 19 years later, the town is virtually unrecognisable. The hotel is now Wiluna Shire offices and many millions of dollars is being spent on new facilities. The town has been rife with social problems for a very long time, particularly related to alcohol and substance abuse and domestic violence. Closing the pub and making the town a dry zone hasn’t immediately fixed the problems, but it is a positive move. I noted new facilities such as a skate park, sports facilities and a better quality supermarket. We spent much of our time with the very helpful, friendly staff at the new Canning Stock Route – Gunbarrel Highway visitors centre. The building was once the Wiluna Hospital but now it is a museum, an information place and an art centre. Artists can come in to paint any day they choose and some of their works are on display in an adjacent gallery. We met Donovan and Marjorie, both very talented artists.

Being a community in transition, there was no accommodation – a caravan park is being built but it is still a few months away. We had to drive to North Pool, 20km north of Wiluna to camp and then return to the town the next day, a day off the bike for me, to catch up on all my admin.

William Snell and his family spent many years in and around the Wiluna region. He had several pastoral leases in the area as well as up north, around the Ophthalmia Range (near what is now Newman) and in the East Pilbara region. In 1929, he was appointed as leader of an expedition to recondition the Canning Stock Route. With his well reconditioning party he restored the watering points up to Well 35 (there are 51 wells) but was running low on supplies and decided to return to Wiluna to restock only to discover that his only son, William Lewis Snell, had died of a burst appendix, aged 24. Devastated, he did not return to finish restoring the wells (Canning completed the job in 1930).

While in Wiluna, I made a point of visiting the cemetery and found William Lewis Snell’s grave. As Willy was away on the Canning Stock Route expedition, his wife, Mary Jane and oldest daughter Gladys, who was a nurse at Wiluna Hospital, buried their son/brother.

From North Pool, I headed to the Canning Stock Route. I had no intention of cycling the whole CSR as I did in 2004; this time I was still on the trail of William Snell. I wanted to explore Snell’s main camp from which he ran his leasehold stations in the area, Bridle Face Outstation. I didn’t divert to see it in 2004. It is 21km off the CSR track and I successfully sought the permission of the current owners of Cunyu Station, to visit Bridle Face Outstation.

I set off along the Wiluna North Road and turned off onto the Canning Stock Route track 40km from Wiluna, just as I had done 19 years ago. It felt a bit weird doing a part of the route again and I wondered whether it would be as I remembered and wrote about it.

It has been a good season here, and I was travelling a month earlier than I did in 2004. The first section around Well 2 was like a garden – the wildflowers were breathtaking. 

The track meandered through a combination of stoney conglomerate and shale and sandy spinifex country. The stoney sections were great and the track was corrugation-free on the winding path (vehicles can’t travel fast enough to cause them). The track through the sandy spinifex country was dreadful. The section between Wells 2 and 3a were generally worse than I remembered, no doubt due to the volume of traffic the CSR gets these days.

The landscape was incredibly beautiful but I had little time to view it on the move, I was constantly wrestling with the bike, trying not to wreck it as I hit continuous corrugations.

As I approached Well 3, the track became very stoney with lots of wash aways. I could move well on this type of terrain, about as fast as the vehicles. As I sped around a curve, I spotted a small lizard on the wheel rut I was following and promptly fell heavily trying to stop in time. That I did – the lizard froze as it’s way of protection – and I seriously tested the collarbone I broke in 2021.

I left Well 3 before the vehicles caught me the next morning. The next few kilometres was incredibly rugged with washed away track and dry creek crossings. 17km from Well 3 we reached Bridle Face Road, a well-maintained track belonging to Cunyu Station, and turned east on to it.

Tracks like the Bridle Face Road are well-maintained by the stations so the watering points and stock yards can be easily accessed. Snell’s Bridle Face Outstation was really worth the extra effort to see it. There were the remnants of a small cottage – mainly the chimney and hearth remained while fragments of the building had either been buried or were scattered in the grass.

A few hundred metres away, the cattle yards and small lean-to were really well-built. Constructed in around 1927, the yards have stood the test of time. The solid mulga timber and thick wire mostly were built to withstand the strongest, wildest bulls!

I continued on the Bridle Face Road and then we navigated our way across eastern side of the station and north to the Canning Stock Route. I had just one more point to include in this part of the journey – Snell Pass. I didn’t record it as being that significant in 2004, and now I remember why. It is a pretty easy ride over the Frere Range with a few rocky sections and wash aways.

From there we headed back west along the Bridle Face Road, passing the intersection where we had turned onto the road and another 25km to the Cunyu Station homestead where we had been invited to stay the night.

Find out more about my 2004 journey up the Canning Stock Route in my book Out There & Back

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #15: On the Trail of “The Glassy Goanna” – Part II appeared first on overland-europe.

In Leonora I was ready for a rest day. It signified the end of the one section and the start of another. With a present-day population of around 1800, Leonora is one of the larger towns in the northern Western Australian goldfields. In 1896, Leonora was a small settlement of hessian and timber shacks but with the discovery of gold, in a few years it became a thriving town. Some of the early buildings that are still standing are testament to optimism of the gold rush era.

Mining is still the main driver of the economy around Leonora, but the gold and nickel mines mostly employ fly in, fly out (FIFO) workers that tend not to contribute so much to the Leonora community. In Leonora, I picked up the trail of my pioneering great great uncle, William Snell – the uncle who in 1897 rode his bicycle from Menzies (104km south of Leonora) to Melbourne to propose to his childhood sweetheart, and then rode back again and was waiting for her when she arrived on the boat in Fremantle.

Originally he had come across from Hamilton in Victoria, just after gold was discovered in Coolgardie (1892). He tried his hand at gold prospecting, but after narrowly escaping death from dehydration, he turned to selling supplies to the miners and community. 

In 1898, William moved to Leonora and opened the general merchants store, WA Snell & Co, in a hessian and iron building. It was common to see three trains of heavily-laden camels arriving in Leonora, bound for WA Snell & Co. A large stone warehouse was built behind the shop in 1900, the year Billy Snell became Leonora’s first mayor (aged 28). He was re-elected six times, driving the formation of the municipality and the town’s first water supply scheme.

I wanted to see whether I could locate the site of the store to see if there were any relicts still there. I did find the site, but unfortunately there is nothing at all left. It is now private housing.

In a book about his life titled The Glassy Goanna, there is a photo of William as Leonora mayor in top hat, standing at the entrance to the Leonora-Gwalia tram. Gwalia, three kilometres down the road from Leonora, was established in 1896 when the Sons of Gwalia gold mine opened. It was once the second largest mine in Western Australia. The first mine manager was Herbert Hoover who went on to become the president of the United States in 1929! A tramway between the two towns was built to ferry people between the settlements. The old tram car was recently restored and it was fun to sit on the front balcony, in the same position as my great uncle.

Gwalia has to be one of the most interesting ghost towns I have seen. In its heyday in the 1890s, its population was around 1000 people, with a barber shop, a butchers shop and a general store.

Herbert Hoover set out to employ Italians who were drawn to the gold rush because he believed they were better workers; they were highly competitive with the non-Italian workers and would do their jobs more cost-effectively.

The houses were built of any materials they could find, repurpose and reuse. 

The next section of the expedition was to head north, following the trail of William Snell, 306km to Wiluna and then a small part of the Canning Stock Route.

DAY 71 – LEONORA TO LEINSTER – 136 KM

From Leonora to Wiluna I followed the Goldfields Highway. Pedalling over the bitumen was such a contrast to to the sand, gravel and rocky tracks I had been following since Coober Pedy (except from Laverton to Leonora). However, I was dismayed at the strength of a gusting headwind that slowed my progress on the first day back in the saddle. It was head down for most of the 136km to Leinster, passing fairly continuous mining operations and being passed by countless three and four carriage road trains. The landscape was open bushland with the occasional breakaways. I made it into Leinster at last light.

DAYS 72/73 – LEINSTER TO WILUNA – 173 KM

By contrast to the other historic mining towns in the region, Leinster is a modern town, initially built by Agnew Mining in 1976 to service its nickel mines during the nickel boom. It is now run by BHP who acquired the mines in 2006. Leinster, “home of the wedge-tailed eagle”, has excellent facilities to serve BHP employees and we enjoyed a great meal at the local tavern.

To my delight, the wind direction switched the following day and a tail wind fanned me along for 145km, where we bush camped, and made it a simple 28km ride into Wiluna on Day 73.

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #14: On the trail of “The Glassy Goanna” – Part I appeared first on overland-europe.

Tracking map: https://z6z.co/breaking-the-cycle-australia/

From Tjuntjuntjara the aim was to reach Laverton and Leonora in the northern goldfields (Western Australia). The route taken isn’t a usual one for drivers and there were a lot of unknowns regarding the terrain and state of the roads.

DAY 63 – 106 KM

I was sad to leave Tjuntjuntjara as there was still much more to see and learn. I set off on the main road linking Tjuntjuntjara to Kalgoorlie, the nearest major centre over 650km away. Accordingly, the state of the road is much better – not too many corrugations and rough sections. I was moving along quite well but towards the end of the day the wind switched direction and I was forced to push into a powerful south-westerly breeze. I had been aiming for the junction between the Tjuntjuntjara road and the Connie Sue Highway, but had to settle 15km short because of the extra wind resistance. There was little shelter from the wind. The only protection was a small stand of skeletal trees. No campfire that night.

DAY 64 – 109 KM

Fortunately the wind died down overnight. I made short work of the last 15km of the Tjuntjuntjara Road and turned south on to the Connie Sue Highway, another of Len Beadell’s road network, this one named after one of his daughters, Connie Sue. The section of the Connie Sue Highway I followed had been upgraded as a part of the route from Tjuntjuntjara to Kalgoorlie and was a decent gravel road compared to the rest of the Connie Sue, which is essentially two wheel ruts. I enjoyed a tailwind to begin with, but then the skies darkened with some heavy rainclouds, the wind switched to a headwind, and the Heavens opened just as I caught up with the vehicles for the first break of the day.

The rain shower was fairly brief, as was my ride along the Connie Sue Highway. After 39km I turned to the west on a minor track, The Rason Lake Road. The track was just two wheel ruts, winding amongst the trees and scrub towards Plumridge Lakes Conservation Reserve.

A bobtail goanna (blue-tongued skink) warming up in the sun on the track

This was one of my favourite tracks so far. The track snaked its way through the bush with quite a few wash-aways and where I constantly swiped the bushes that encroached over the track. As vehicles couldn’t travel fast here, there were no corrugations – pure pleasure. The track hadn’t been used much recently and when I cycled ahead of the vehicles, I broke through so many spiders’ webs that spanned the track, it felt like I was being wrapped in a cocoon! 

DAY 65 – 93 KM

Unfortunately it rained quite hard overnight and I awoke in a very damp sleeping bag – my tent is not waterproof anymore. At least the track was cycleable even if the wet sand felt sticky, making it heavy going. The road became a lot straighter and with that the corrugations reappeared.

After about 25km, I started to increase in elevation and after 30km, I turned off the Rason Lake Road onto an even more minor track, the Plumridge Lakes Road.

The first section of this track bisected sand dune country; I crossed some soft ridges but the worst of it were the corrugations. They weren’t like the monsters of the Anne Beadell Highway, but I could not escape the bumps and therefore could not get any momentum under my tyres.

It was pretty slow going and our lunch break was amongst white sand ridges that could only support small shrubs and bushes like banksias, grass trees and other vegetation that can survive in poor sandy soil. A fire had swept through the countryside not so long ago and there was little protection from the wind. 

Towards the end of the day, I passed some mining exploration camps. The roads was more chopped up from the extra traffic and very sandy in places. The recent rain had caused many large puddles en route; many I could avoid but some I had to cycle through (not good for the longevity of the bike parts).

DAY 66 – 92 KM

Another damp morning, but at least it was sunny. Reducing the tyre pressure before I started cycling was a good move as the first 23km was deep sand dunes and very heavy going. Without the fatbike, this section would have taken up much of the day. The track ended abruptly when I reached a mining road for the Tropicana gold mine. The road was not on our maps and initially we assumed it had been upgraded. But it seemed to be heading in the wrong direction and after a few kilometres, the team realised we needed to find the continuation of the sandy track we had been following. Rick worked out where we needed to go and after a quick tea break, we were following another little-used track, crossing sandy ridges and vast plains which had been burnt, possibly by a wildfire. There was virtually no natural bush that had not been scorched, but in nearly all cases, the trees were sprouting again from the roots. I had to bushwhack across some of the terrain as the track was pretty faint. The section of natural bush that had escaped the fire was a delight to cycle through.

A campsite with a great view, high above the Lake Miningwal region.

DAY 67 – 96 KM

This area has recently received a lot of rain – any tyre tracks had been washed away as torrents of water had flowed down the track and the lower points were still wet with large puddles extending across its full width.

One of the highlights of the day was a crumbling breakaway with a cave serving as a great shelter and lookout. I spent some time off the bike to explore the hill and cave. 

Desert kurrajong trees were virtually the last standing tall and green in another recently burnt area. On closer inspection, one side of each trunk was scorched while the other was undamaged.

We stopped beside some mining ruins at lunch, but 3km further along we again hit another broad mining road. This time the team established that the mining road was the route we needed to take as it tracked the course of the old road. It wasn’t such an interesting ride on the broad gravel surface into a side-headwind, but I made up for lost time which gave me only 60-odd kilometres to do the next day into Laverton.

DAY 68 – 63 KM

I could relax knowing I just had a half day ahead of me, following better quality gravel roads into Laverton. I was now entering gold mining country and from the road I could see many old abandoned gold mines, as well as nickel mining operations.

Originally called British Flag when gold was discovered in 1896, the town received its name from explorer and politician, John Forrest, who named the town in honour of Dr. Charles Laver. Laver, who cycled from Coolgardie to British Flag when gold was discovered there and returned with a large nugget, was credited with finding a significant amount of finance for the development of the gold mining venture and the settlement.

DAY 69 – LAVERTON TO LEONORA – 125 KM

I was pretty tired when I arrived in Laverton and a little apprehensive about having to cover the full distance from Laverton to Leonora in a day. However, the easy day I had into Laverton was enough for me to recover sufficiently. A enjoyed cycling past vibrant patches of colourful wildflowers at times along the roadside. I made the distance comfortably on a quality tarmac road with a pretty advantageous tail wind for much of the day.

The post Breaking the Cycle Across Australia #13: Tjuntjuntjara to Leonora via Plumridge Lakes Nature Reserve appeared first on overland-europe.