Granny (75) by Puschi around in Australia

Hermine Stampa-Rabe

1. Ebook-Edition

I tried to translate it by myself. Please excuse me my mistakes.

 Imprint

Granny by Pushi around in Australia

Hermine Stampa-Rabe

published by: epubli GmbH, Berlin, www.epubli.de

Copyright: © 2014 Hermine Stampa-Rabe

ISBN 978-3-8442-8463-8

Cover: Gudrun Meisiek, Lliria, Spanien

Layout: Hermine Stampa-Rabe

Layout für Ebook: Dagmar R. Rehberg, Borgstedt

Text Copyright © 2013 Hermine Stampa-Rabe

Email: Hermine.stampa-rabe@web.de

Tel.: 0049-431-735565

For Klaus-Otto, Olaf, Ines, Achim, Alexandra, Annika, Steffen, Gudrun, Carlos, Anna-Lena and Marie

INTRODUCTION

Australien (out of: Das neue große farbige Lexikon von Bassermann, ISBN 3-8094-0002-5)

Addition to the mainland smallest continent to the S. hemisphere btw Ind. U. silent ocean comprises the islands lying on the common base , which v. - Tasmania in the SO is the largest. The only less-structured in its coastal mainland has an area v. 7.68 million square kilometers in an east-west extent of 4100 km v. . In the north of Carpentaria golf grips 700 km deep into the country and in the south the Great Austr. Bay and the NO Coast is preceded by the Great Barrier Reef. A. is a flat , 400 m high on average tableland, whose edges are usually bent. In W, the large trunk area of the West Austr expands. Panel with island mountains and sand and gravel deserts busy after means -A. from, the SO is best. from the deep basin of the Murray-Darling, which collects the water from the largest part of the fold mountain range that runs along the entire O-coast and is dissected by faults. In the Alps in Austr SO it reaches 2234 m (Mt Kosciusko). 60% of the area As are without outlet, so that collect only occasionally flying in the interior waters in salt pans. Some artes. Pools reduce water poverty of the country in whose far inside there is a hot and dry desert climate, in the north it is trop - hot, in SO subtrop. – warm moderate with uniform rainfall. All shows the strong climate fluctuations and heatwaves. The orig. flora (eg Eucalyptus, Bottle & Grass Tree) and fauna (kangaroo, koala, platypus, echidna, emu, lyre tail, parrot species) have an independent development after the secession as (with Tasmania, New Zealand and New Guinea) v. the land mass of the big old S-continent "Gondwanaland" out the o. in the later Cretaceous period in the early Tertiary and was the O-plaice isolated. Through a post-Pleistocene. Sea level rise were separated and Tasmania New Guinea, New Zealand.

Commonwealth of Australia, amtl. The Commonwealth of Australia, the Australasian. Continent, and the islands includes Tasmania with 7,686,848 square kilometers. Population: The Ew. are mostly British and ir Ethnicity, Indigenous Australians and mixed race, Asian. State Language: Engl Hptst. Canberra, which creates its own district in addition to the six states of New South Wales, Queensland, South Australia, Tasmania, Vicoria, Western Australia and Northern Territory. Head of state since 1952 Kg Elizabeth II, represented by a Governor General. The constitutional political. Bonds of parlamentar. But monarchy in Britain are only slight. Agriculture and mining are the basic sectors of the economy, but the industry production represents the gross national product. Agriculture esp. in the SO and SW z.T. with artificial. Irrigation, wheat, oats, barley, corn, cotton, rice, sugarcane, fruit and S-fruits. More extensive is the livestock (sheep, cattle). Australia is the largest growers worldwide. In addition, a lot of meat is exported. The mining industry uses rich deposits of gold, silver, copper, uranium, lead, iron, manganese and stone and brown coal , increasingly, oil and gas is developed.

Prolog

Being three months home after my departure from Australia a postal employee rings the bell in Kiel. My three big parcels arrive! I am full exited and open them without the parcel with my trailer. In them I find the little, old and scrubbed mobile phone of Matthew’s friend Sony from Darwin and the long rope of Barry from Cullen Bay against snakes. I take deep breath with emotion. Tears out of gratitude drop down my cheeks.

My whole, great adventure Australia rises in front of my inner eyes. This I would write now onto paper and you, my readers, shall share it. I invite you, to join me by reading. You will see the peace, the heat, the cold, the country, the animals and above all the absolutely kind and helpful people of Australia. A big adventure waits for you.

Perth

Departure from Hamburg-Fuhlsbüttel via London Heathrow in England to Sydney in Australia.

WESTERN AUSTRALIA

In Sydney overtook me the first shock: There I waited for my boxed bicycle. But it did not come with this airplane. I will be assured that it will be forwarded to me in Perth in the hostel when it arrives.

Delayed flight to Perth. There informed me a student on the bus from the airport during the tour into the city center about, that I can not buy me here in Perth a SIM Cart, because it applies only to the city and the surrounding countryside. He helps me to get to my hostel. There I am booked for a long time and get a lower bed in a four-bedroom. The other three girls are very nice.

In the evening I walk into the city at Christmas lights. Perth is situated on the Swan River. There is a promenade on the shore and separately along a bicycle lane.

The next day I buy a SIM Cart at Telstra, because only this works throughout Australia. Likewise, I get there a WIFI for my little laptop that will work for a whole year. Against the intense rays of the sun I get in the pharmacy the usual zinc ointment. For the nose, there is a zinc albums pen.

I am waiting eagerly for my bicyle. In a bicycle shop the young man searches in the Internet the Sydney airport and finds out that the bicycle has arrived and this evening will be delivered in the hostel.

Here it begins the big sort of my goods brought with me. What do I need and what I will not miss? The stove and the large black ink cartridge remains at home. A scale is available in the hostel for large pieces of luggage.

In our room is new a young woman from Swisserland. The next day she comes back in the evening from a visit to friends and tells me excitedly that in front of Perth on the island Rottnest Iceland a man's cut off head was found on the beach.. This message puts me in a frenzy. I am afraid to start with my slow bicycle. Can I take the train and drive from Perth to Adelaide to cycle further?

At the tourist information I get the message that the train is already fully booked. One week later first the next train goes. No, as long I do not want to stay in Perth. I want to go.

My daughter Gudrun calms me down and says that the police is already looking for this man and he is long gone.

In fact, my bicycle is delivered in the hostel. In the bicycle shop the young man is eager to see my bicycle. I imagine it there and buy me also the same time in this shop new bicycle shoes for clip pedals and gel gloves.
Then I trimmed my luggage from 51 kg to 31 kg, I drive off.

Final, I go on!

10.01.2013: Perth – Mandurah: 75 km

When I crawl at 5 am from the bed, I carry my panniers completely quietly from the room and down on the inner court of the Youth Hostel. After my muesli breakfast I check out at the reception and load my bicycle. But who takes a photo of me when starting, if none is here? Completely down I push the bicycle off the yard. Oh, which happy adding! A motorcyclist drives on the yard and takes my start from the Youth Hostel by video.

And then it goes through the nearly sleeping Perth by radiating blue morning sky! Perth is a bead of a city. Here the hecticness of the many other cities does not prevail over day. Here it pleases me. Also because of the long and large bank promenade of the broad Swan River, where everyone can take a beautifull walk or ride its bicycle.

With the left-hand traffic I do not have difficulties. The drivers do not honk. I hope for their compassion. With sunshine and 23 ° C I cycle above the Swan River on the Freemantle Highway out of the city. In order to photograph, I would have to stop on the road. I do not dare that, however, in order not to bring the drivers in conflict.

Thus I cycle along on the highway towards the south. At 11 am provokes me the first large gas station, in which I buy a small can of Sprite. Sprite belongs to my large bicycle tours. This cold and wonderful sweet liquid makes me happy. A cockerel salad forms my firm meal.

Outside stand ICE containers. I would like to carry these ice cubes gladly forward in my cool box. They would dissolve slowly. In this way I would have always cool drinking water. The panniers are however heavy with their 4 kg too. The gas station-waiter gives me the hint to drive and buy me a water sack at the camping and fishing road shop in the next place, by whose large opening I can put the cubes in it. I find it also. But the water bags have also a much too close opening.

Thus I decide for a small 3 l cool box with firm screw-type cap and drinking valve and leave there my 10 l cool box for the nice shop assistant. Therefore I receive the cool-box $10 more cheaply. The next problem follows: How do I fasten this round, oblong equipment together with my tent on my porter? All my cooled water from my small drinking bottles and the 2 l water sack I poure in it. Beautifully firmly screwed on, I hope it will be close. First I place it upright behind my saddle and behind it crosswise against sliding down the tent.

Works, presses however in the back at my bottom at my extended spinal column. I must sit far in front on the saddle. No, that can not be done. I am thinking: If this container is firmly screwed on, no water might actually withdraw and therefore it can lay down.

If something water nevertheless withdraws, it drips only on waterproof local clear packing ashes. Now I sit again correctly on the saddle, in order to move freely and merrily the pedals.

Here I cycle for a short time on a cycle track or the side strip of the highway. If a large truck drives past at me, all this goes well.

On the caravan park of Mandurah I receive a shady grass field and set up the tent for the first time. It takes long time. That is thus capable of improvement. But why shall I actually hurry? I am nevertheless not on the escape! Evening temperature: 27 ° C.

I, the thirsty camel

11.01.2013: Mandurah – Bunbury: 105 km

At the night it storms enormously. Fortunately my tent stands protected behind a high wall. In the night drive the cars, which are standing beside my tent, at different times away. From sleeping I can not speak. At midnight the storm suddenly falls asleep, and against morning isolated small fair waether clouds swim such as cotton wool balls in the blue sky.

My thermometer shows 26 ° C. In the high tree beside me several black-and-white magpies pipe. Before the entrance of my tent more highly and closely shrubs grow. If I had had fear, I could not have slept, because therein spiders, perhaps also poisonous, surely have woven its nets. But those were not interested in me. And a snake had also no longing to creep to me in the tent.

Tiredly I start at 7.30 am. Two different highways are to me after Bunbury at the disposal. The man from the bicycle shop in Perth advised me to take the coastal highway. That I do, can also shoot some photos.

After a long distance the whole traffic is led on the new highway, which goes parallel to the old coastal highway. With water muesli in the belly and hardly slept, I roll so slowly with head wind forward. It cools me down. My thermometer shows 27 ° C.

When I recover in a roadhouse, a woman tells me that one week ago here still prevailed 45 ° C. We will soon again have those. A heat wave always follows a cooling. Well, there is approaching some for me still in such a way.

During my next respite the today’s hard bicycle route does not go out of my head. Tomorrow my distance leads me through a low mountain range. In addition with my current achievement I am not able to do it. That I must keep clear before my eyes. But how can I come through it to reach Albany?

Some years ago I read the travel blog of an young English journalist, who wanted to cycle from Sydney around Australia. When he drove here from Bunbury to Albany through this very high-wavy low mountain range, he fell so hard that he had to lie several months in the hospital. And if this man did not create it, then I can create it as a small woman less than ever.

I remember the lady of the Perth tourist information after 5 pm, whose business card is in my wallet. Thus I keep simple, get out my mobile phone on a crossing and call her. From her I receive the message that a course drives from Bunbury through this mountain landscape until Albany. This connection I still will book in the evening. I am completely relieved and look forward to the course trip. With the cars, which populate the highways, the gruesome question goes again and again through my head: Will sit in one of these cars the head cutter?

Since I reach only at 6.20 pm the station Bunbury, there it is already closed. As I come to the caravan park, there it is also already closed. Fortunately still another woman stands in her yellow protective clothing on the yard, which helps me. She finds a telephone receiver at the entrance door including telephone number and hands me the listener. The lady at the other end wants to come directly. She does also. And because I have only a small person tent, I receive a lawn for $20. I would have paid that gladly also in Mandurah, but unfortunately I had for the primitive caravan place to pay $35! This neck cutter!

Here stands a great deal and many larger tents. None person answeres my greeting. It storms. It is not so simple at all to set up the tent. After my luggage also lies in it I attach still my bicycle at the railing before my tent.

Again back in my tent I make it cosy for me in the darkness. But in my small down sleeping bag me freeze the naked feet. I set up my tent against the wind, so that the cold wind whistles from the rear by the fly net. So I can not sleep. There I remember the cool bag, which is in my luggage. This I get out and invert it over the basing of my sleeping bag and sleep happy and contently.

By bus through the low mountain range

12.01.2013: Bunbury – Albany (bus): 7 km

Outside there are pleasant 26 ° C. I slept excellently. At 8.30 am I should be at the boss of the caravan park; because she wants to announce my railway trip by telephone. By then I lod my accumulator and write on my notebook. I also would like to send still clothes ahead at the post office.

Punctually I stand at the boss on the mat. After several attempts she creates it. But today on Sunday no railway drives, instead a long haul bus. That is totally no matter to me, main thing, it carries forward my bicycle.

With my full loaded bicycle I leave my sleeping place. After approximately 200 m a small dead alligator lies beside the cycle track. Well, actually I do not take corpses in my camera with me home. But I would like to carry an alligator forward, which represents a fright ghost here in large size. It is approximately 35 cm long and is drained from the heat of the last days.

Oh yes, a dead kangaroo is also on the road. That is perhaps a giant animal! Since it lies on the back, I see that it is a male. Thus a baby can not live there more in the belly. But a collision with such a large kangaroo can have deadly consequences! Even if it would give bears here, it would have been soon eaten up. But which animal is to destroy this monster by eating up?

The sun shines by 27 ° C, when I find the station and buy me there my ticket for the long haul bus who is already standing there. And because I am the first passenger, I may select for me a place. The kind bus driver – here captain called – askes me for my homeland. When he hears that I am from Germany, he radiates over the whole face and tells me that he already drove in Germany with his bicycle on the cycle track of the whole Midland Canal and far until Holland to the English Channel. He is still completely enthusiastic of it! Germany is very beautiful, he tells me out of deepest soul.

And then the full bus drives off. First I am surprised at the low landscape. Reciprocally many wine plantations lie here. Here the clusters mature in the hot sunshine. But then it becomes hilly. The landscape forces me off large respect. I am lucky that I am not by bicycle on this road. The highway leads two-lane without side strips by ochraceous sand, framed from enormous eucalyptus trees. A beautiful sight! The sun penetrates with its jets through the sheet crowns and makes every thing beautiful. Fascinated I hypnotize the landscape. How gladly I would have rushed here along with my racing bicycle! Thus I do now only in thoughts. Who has a heavy marathon before himself like that of Paris – Brest – Paris? He would find here the best and most pleasant training distance. Because only very little motor traffic prevails here. And the warmth is guaranteed.

The bus holds in the places, in which I wanted to sleep on caravan parks. Rather far in the proximity of the south coast already driving past, I constitute left hand a group of kangaroos with babies. Somewhat very much fallow dear continues to stand on a large meadow. Since there are so many animals, it only can concern a farm. And some more far black alpakkas eat on the pasture.

Perhaps one hour later lies a dead kangaroo beside the road. In the place Denmark it is unusually cold. The warmth or heat is more pleasant to me. Now our bus rolls the last 53 km to Albany. This place is rather right at the bottom because of the coast of a bay. A mountain range is pre-aged to it, which helds the surf from the South Pole. The water is covered with white crests and looks unpleasantly grey. The sky is cloudly. It makes the appearance, as if it still wants also to rain to all accident.

I stand as the latest all alone before the bus terminal. And where do I find a bed here? No humans are to be seen. That is understandably. With this cold weather (for Australia) from 20 ° C I also would not have gone to more out of the house. Thus I look around. The houses were built graduated like in Italy one above the other as to the tendency. And up in the first intersection roads “Backpacker” stands in large type characters at one of these houses. That is exactly what I need today. With this cold weather I sleep in the tent? No, not!

But how can I come up there? I look around. Cars drive down far left. Yes, there I would like to drive up the mountain. I find the name “Backpackers” above also at a house. Two young people sit there, which describe me the way to the entrance. They sleep also therein.

The boss, his wife and a German, young employee are urgently advised me here and just also another young man not to cycle with the bicycle through the 45 ° C hot Nullarbor. That is simply not for bearing! There I will die in the heat!

The Nullarbor seems to be probably a preliminary stage of hell. Differently I can not present it to me. What can I do now? As a precaution I book myself a second night in order to consider me exactly everything in peace. Here that begins for me the wild tenting in the free country. The adventure signs are already coming in a distance!

By road train through the scorching Nullarbor

13.01.2013: Albany – Nullarbor (bicycle and road train): 7 km

I wish to move on. Soon I stand with my panniers outside and would like to fasten them. There two young men again in the conscience are talking to me not to accomplish the trip by bicycle in this ape heat. I smile at them and explain to them that 85% of mankind have continuously fear. Those are normal humans. To the remaining 15% I belong. The here present ones and inside the sittings are all soft eggs (included the Backpacker leader, what I do not say however). They disappear insulting.

I start with sunshine and blue sky. The cloud cover from yesterday took off up to small fleecy clouds. The director of the Backpacker hotel looks for me outside in order to photograph me with my start. I also give him my camera and receive on this way a starting photo.

It goes off and always easily uphill. But it cycles completely pleasantly. Soon Albany lies behind me right at the bottom. With a funny feeling due to the dangerous Nullarbor crossing I roll towards the east, always considering, how I can solve this large problem. After 7,14 km the highway divides. My distance continues to lead right hand towards the east. To my bright joy here a roadhouse stands. That smiles at me correctly pleadingly to enter.

I can not resist the feeling to drink here a bottle with cold Sprite, place my full loaded bicycle right beside the entrance, climb the stages and enter a marvellously cool interior of full shelves with treats.

Behind that the owner is dispatching a straight guest, who stands for bar. And against the bus distance from yesterday what happens to me after going away from Albany in the first roadhouse, is still nothing at all. When I tell my project to the landlord, he takes me also into a different room of his roadhouse and shows me completely proudly his recumbent bicycle, a couch bicycle, at which still in the back are the two bars with the orange triangle flags.

With this bicycle and a trailer behind it, then he tells me completely proudly, he has cycled three years ago nearly over completely around Australia. I am flabbergasted and totally fascinated by him and his bicycle! But he is a large, strong, broad-shouldered man with very much strength, actually the opposite of me.

And then he also warns me completely urgently to ride with that amount of water, which I transport with me, not through the Nullarbor. At least I need in addition still two water bags to 5 litres each, which I have to buy and to fasten on my bicycle in Esperance in the camping and fishing shop at the road. That it is impossible for my conditions, I do not tell him, but say that I will make it.

In thoughts I am despairing totally. Why isn’t my dream to become true? What for a hell inserted the nature here for the bicycle drivers, who must cycle towards the east, in order to be able starting from Ceduna further on?

While I am sitting and thinking about my problem, I am looking through the window outside and an considering, how I can come around this here existing evil, then I will cycle just to Norsemann and think, in order to look there for truck driver, who carries me forward with my bicycle trough the hell of Australia. I send prayers above after “to my large friend in heaven”. Perhaps it helps me, yes.

And while I look through the windows to the washers with the routine on the outside of the square, I see driving cars there but in fact a great red road train which stops. Oh, I think, his two trailers are securely sealed, so that there can be nothing more come in it. But I still want to ask.

With new courage I thus go outside to the men of this large spectre of all bicycle drivers and ask whether they can carry me forward with my small, full loaded bicycle, which stands there at the wall, in order to save me from certain death by dying of thirst in the Nullarbor.

They smile mild at me, look at me from top to bottom and then at my small full loaded bicycle. But nobody says something. Well, as fast I give not up, remain at them sticking and ask still twice. Therupon I am smiled at and they nod with the head “yes”!

Now I am saved and want to push directly my bicycle here. No, it shall stay there; because before they still want to shower, refuel and have breakfast here. I am to wait. That I do and ask to be allowed to pay their breakfast at least as thank you. No, I may not do that. Thus I remain sitting beside their table and do not leave them out of my eyes.

And then it is so far. All go outside. The one road train driver shows where my bicycle on the other side must be pushed in. I will get it fast and bring it with his help with my saddle inside it. This left is located under the first large trailer. Then I am in the cab on top of the upper bed.

The second road train driver puts for sleeping on the lower bed and covers themselves with a thin, dark cover totally, so that I can look from above to outside. On the passenger seat a passenger rides along, whose frozen sardines are transported in the back into the trailers. He is a fisherman from Perth.

In the environment of Esperance still many further crates of frozen sardines of this fisherman are pushed in the first trailer, until this is completely full. And the road train continues to go to still another place, where further large crates are loaded with frozen sardines into the second trailer, until also this is filled. There we receive something to drink and eat cookies.

Here the interesting fisherman stays and drives with his here already waiting small truck back to Perth. In this way the seat beside the road train driver is free for me. Now the possibility is offered to me of seeing the environment. From the upper bed only reciprocally the road or the sand was to be seen to the lip of the engine. An incredible strong feeling here in front!

With darkness we reach Norsemann, turn eastward on the Eyre Highway and roll at coolly night temperature of 20 ° C towards the east by the night. First I am so fascinated of it that I remain sitting down on the passenger seat and enjoy the night drive, as if I would sit straight on my small racing bicycle during a marathon. It is imply great!

But at 12 pm I begin to shiver and become tired. Thus I rise highly to the upper bed and put to sleep.

SOUTH AUSTRALIA

14.01.2013:

Nullarbor – Ceduna (road train): 0 km

In the morning I wake up from a whistle and climb down. I look around me. We stand on the flat and tree-free Nullarbor on a stopping point in (in the taiga). It is said to me that I am to look for a toilet. That means to crawl away behind low shrubs. We are already in SOUTHAUSTRALIA. We passed the border at the night.

The two road train drivers are in the middle age. The first is married, the second not. The second drives in his spare time with his large motorcycle including a trailer through the country, sets up his tent and enjoys his spare time.

He is the owner of lots of sheep and cows. They are all the time alone in the fields. To control them he does not drive by quad, but is riding his horse.

We speak over cultivation of grain in Australia. I tell him, that our German farmers bring in the spring the dung and liquid manure from the cows on the fields, so that then the grain grows better and faster. The cows are along the wintertime in a stable. There he means that his cows are not located in the stable, but run all outside freely around.

As long they are calves, their horns are cut off. The cows are never milked. The calves stay a half year with the mother cow and suckle the milk from the udder. Then they become separated from her and floated with their-same on another pasture. The cows here are all alone bred for steaks.

This road train driver wants to come once to Schleswig-Holstein to become shown from me, where I have lived, for example, the island Amrum.

The sun shines from the blue sky. Certainly it becomes hot again. We drive on. In Ceduna I step out; because there it is the end of the Nullarbor. And the road train must be refuelled, washed and supplied with oil. I say thank you to these two completely noble men.

The caravan park is in the proximity. Still another further photo, signs – then I leave this for me cosy transition home. For me it is like the parting of a whole period of life time; again back from the sky onto the ground of the facts.

My tent, which I set up a while ago during heavy desert storm with my totally tired head, lays down on the side despite the heavy panniers in it. I nothing then quickly out of the tent, draw all tent pegs out and be astonished, why my tent does not only put itself on the side despite the heavy articles therein, but turns also in another direction.

Thus I must set up it with the pointed posteriors against the storm. Thus I empty the tent. But the same time I step with one foot onto the base, so that this shall not fly away completely; because it is completely loosely under it.

While I am now pushing my panniers with the left hand to the side, I hold the tent with the right hand above. But how can I fasten it in addition with a tent peg? I do not have a third hand. There comes a radiating smiling man to meet me, who offers his assistance to me. He belongs to the caravan, which became set up recently at some distance of me and prepared camping-efficiently. The man and his wife directly had welcomed me waving and smiling, when they arrived. The friendly man gets equal his hammer, in order to be able to knock the tent pegs into the hard earth.

Now finally it stands, however it is still pressed somewhat to the side from the storm. That must hold. Thus I distribute the bags again in a row next to each other at the internal left side. Finally also my brain again functions.

But the tent bends itself still in the strong and very warm wind. With my bags and later me myself it will not fly away.

15.01.2013: Ceduna – Quorn (bicycle and pickup): 66 km

At the night cars, which drive from the place, awake me. I could not fall asleep again. Around 5.00 am I pack my wash items and go into the sanitary house. A family with their eight little kids sits already by having breakfast. All smile at me and greet back. Now I begin to pack. With my tired head it does not run so fast. But at 7.30 am I roll by 23 ° C off from the place. Naturally I distributed still my zinc ointment on nose and cheeks.

I have fun by cycling. Unfortunately, the warmth changes in completely short time into heat. Hot air confronts me. In spite of my good and thin clothes it becomes more and more disagreeable. I drink like a hole. The street is wavy, but in a very good state. Only very few cars drive. Most road users exist of gigantic road trains. However, these do all one big curve around me. And then it is to me as if sweltering heat confronts me. My speedometer gives up his mind in this heat. I need soon a new one.

Thus I took a rest in shorter and shorter distances beside the highway and go under a short mally tree in its small shade.

And when I am so about 20 km before Wirrula, I go with my bicycle oncemore in the shade of a tree. The hot wild storm pushes down my bicycle together with its heavy panniers. I have trouble to solve all and to lay it besides. Beseechingly I look at the past driving car drivers. But all wave only and drive on.

And when from my direction a car appears far behind in the curve, I hold unbelievingly up my thumb. And really the car stops and comes backward on my roadway direction Wirrula back to me. The man asks me whether I have fallen. From loud desperation, he can go on if I say the truth to him, I confirm it. Together we load the panniers and the bicycle behind on his car. I may take a seat in front beside him and receive an ice-cold coke. What a marvellous drink for an almost died of thirst! Finally, I also cool inside and around my stomach.

In his car is a satellite phone which he lays very much to me in my heart to purchase one here also, who knows who knows? Also a burglar alarm is to the left behind me on top beside the door, if he should come with his car in the outback to difficulties. He has made provision for everything.

Because he himself is on the move as a businessman to Port Augusta to begin tomorrow his work with businessmen and workers in the outback, he asks me whether he can take me up to there; because along the distance from here up to there I can not go by bicycle on account of the high heat. I accept.

Before Port Augusta he stops at a roadhouse and invites me to a cold drink and a sandwich after my taste. Then my brain also functions better again. And when he finds out after my itinerary my route from Port Augusta and I tell him that I like to cycle from Wilmington to Renmark in the Murray Riverland, he resolves immediately to bring me shortly on a caravan park before Wilmington.

Thus we go from Port Augusta and see on a railroad route a 3 km long freight train. At the beginning and end are four railroad engines to pull it forward. Herewith diminished coal is brought to the burning at Port Augusta. As so I understood it.

During the journey my male angel explains me the sheep farming and the scenery by trough we are just going. About this I know nothing. He himself owns 5,000 sheep after which he does not need to look. His sheep become clipped all two months. The short wool is used to the climate insulation in house constructions and roof structures. After six months the lambs become separated from the mothers. The sheep eat the dry grass, however, in the morning and in the evening they have water to drink.

Here grow the small salty bushes, Saltbush called, which they eat with pleasure. The sheep are bred as meat suppliers. These sheep which eat the salty bushes and Bluebush deliver an especially well tasting meat. If black lambs are born, they are not to be used. Black wool is not welcome. It concerns with most merino sheep. This wool must be always white.

It is difficult to receive the sheep always healthy. A big illness place is under the tail. Here they are especially treated. If it becomes too hot to the sheep and enough bushes are available, they creep under it, anyway the lambs. If it is very hot over the day and at night frost rules, unfortunately lambs die. There are up to 5,000 sheep of one single owner. For so many animals nobody can build a solar protection.

We drive into the Flinders Range, a regional very nice, mountainous area. He briefly stops in Quorn and shows me how I can come along tomorrow without having to cycle over high mountains out of this further after 48 km to Wilmington.

Then he turns back again and drives to the caravan park in Quorn where he also knows all people and these him. Quorn is a wonderful small place with two churches, hotels, a railway station and many houses from the early days. I am inspired and think to insert tomorrow one inspection day. Australia is a sheep country. Here every Sunday it is usual to roast sheep meat as festival food which is dished up with potatoes and vegetables.

In the Flinders Range it is mountainous with hilly country of grass and bushes. Here the sheep graze. Also kangaroos come and drink from the drinks for the sheep. I can see them. These are whole dark animals which live on top on the high mountains besides here. Because it is much colder there at night, they also have a thicker and longer coat of hair. Their ears are round, not sharp like those of the red and gray kangaroos.

This businessman, my male angel, owns a factory, in which the stone blocks from the mountains become broken in big or small little stones and pass away for the road construction. He tells me quite proudly that he has done $ 600 clear profits with the last horse running. He has put number 3 on the horse and has won.

From the registration of the local caravan park he brings me with all my belongings to a dreadful dry and sandy place where I should put up my tent. He still writes down for me his address with telephone number, if problems appear. Then I should call him. He will help me. Then I say thank you. And he goes to his hotel.

While I build up my tent, Gallahs, the pink-coloured cockatoos, float very much for a long time around the high and ancient trees which my rescuer calls "sugar-gum-trees". The normal, half-high trees have everywhere many sheets at the end of their branches. These are mallee-trees. They donate some shades.

Today now it has already been getting late. I sit in the space for mothers with kids. Here in it, unfortunately, it is also very hot. However, I do not dare to open the door because, otherwise, vermins come in.

Because my speedometer gave up his mind after 34.5 km, however, I saw at a sign how wide it was still to Wirrula. I drove 66 km.

16.01.2013: Rest day in Quorn: 0 km

At night it cools something. About myself in the air I hear the countless Gallahs shouting and flying.

During my today's rest day I allow to concern it quietly. Thus I walk in this small, old and pretty place. At the supermarket I make purchases. A young policeman stands beside me at the counter. I ask him in which area of Australia it feels chilly at the moment. There he smiles and says that it is hot everywhere. – Thus I have to cycle on!

At the railway station I talk to a woman who had emigrated here 23 years ago with her husband from England, after he had come to pension. They feel here very well and do not have the problems like the German emigrants: other money, other language, other weights and other traffic direction.

While I speak with the second woman who stands behind the bar, she shows me the advertisement for the "Pichi Richi train“, an old-timer railroad which drives here many tourists trough the Flinders Range in autumn. I knew from my yesterday's angel that this railroad journey is also a center of attraction because on half of the journey food is distributed.

And when she hears that I write about my bicycle tour a book she orders herself quite immediately a copy. She tells me how she does it if she must work in this scorching heat in her garden: to bind a humid, thin fleece towel before mouth and nose and one in the neck. Then I should drink as much that I must go lastingly to the toilet. But I can not drink as much during the bicycle riding. Then I can not bend me no more deeply enough over my bicycle by riding by racing handlebar.

To my relative, Hans in Melbourne, I write by email: „Hans, I stay at the moment in Quorn. And because I do not want to cycle on account of the scorching heat at night and also I became warned because then the home animals walk around or cross on the street, I would like to ask you where it is not as hellishly hot at the moment in Australia.“

As a result I receive by email this answer: „Here in Victoria we have only 22 ° C. The animals would be no danger for you. Everything friendly – Kangaroos, Echidnas, Wombats. Only for the cars they are dangerous. Hans.“ “If you come here, it is again also hot. 40+ tomorrow. Hans.“

Then I can start tomorrow my tour safely. Hopefully no Kangaroo or Emu jumps into my traversing bicycle.

17.01. 2013: Quorn – Wilmington: 41 km

When my alarm clock rings at 4.20 am, I get up. Outdoors it is still dark. I am surprised, why the noise of the flush resounds again in the toilet like an echo from outdoors. Yesterday my angel told me that the pink Gallahs copy noises. They are very much intelligent and can speak soon in captivity with right treatment. And outdoors they sit on a huge scale in the high trees. Maybe one sat on the roof of this sanitary arrangement? Why not? I am alone on the camping site.

Actually, I wanted to start in the darkness. My panniers stand ready to departure in the room. But a look to the glass door immediately lets me again forgotten this wish. In the room the light burns. Outdoors it is dark. And what do I see at my glass door? At it many big wing animals are floating around which might come in with pleasure. They have the size of hornets, but look gray. They try to prick themselves mutually with their sting of the abdomen. And there I should open the door?

No, this really does not go. They all would have come in. Thus I lie down on my sofa and wait for the time, until it is light outdoors. And with the brightness there disappear my undesirable onlookers.

Wonderfully orange the sky colours at the horizon. With the ready full loaded bicycle I start at 6.30 am in the quiet morning. I know my street where to go. Thus I leave this friendly place and cycle on a healthy tarred road in direction Wilmington.

Shortly after the sun comes about the horizon and dips everything in her beaming light. Before me spread to itself a flat and wildly covered area. Behind myself I leave the mountains of the Flinders Range. A dead kangaroo lies on the right edge of the road, it must have been started at night. It is not a male animal. Maybe one more young is in its bag?

However, the animal lies on the belly. And I may not turn it. What should I do with a young kangaroo baby? No, this really does not work. Thus I cycle further. The air feels with 26 ° C pleasantly chilly. But with the time the sun begins to fling her igneous glow against me. The today's distance to Wilmington should be only 40 km. And on this distance I would absolutely like to stand the heat.

Every now and then I cross a small deepening which belongs to a river which has dried up, however, now in this season. In the middle of the deepening of the street stands in each case a water level indicator with a water level to 2 m. If I look now to the right and to the left, I see big and old trees on both sides of the dry riverbed. It seems that in the subsoil water exist furthermore, because, otherwise, these earthy and gnarled big trees would have died long time ago. I cycle further on.

Flocks of sheep graze sometimes on the left, sometimes on the right. A flock stands on a plowed up field. What should and can they eat there, remains to me puzzling. Also horses graze on another pasture.

In front of me an other mountain chain has been based. Before it my desired purpose must lie, however, I can not discover it with the best will. A fox laces straight across the street. On the right side a kangaroo jumps in the thicker bushes. In order to take photos it is simply too fast away.

Now I cycle to the next killed Kangaroo. This has got a belonging beat. On this occasion, at first sight it is not to find out whether it concerns of a female or male animal. The intestine lie around everywhere. It looks ghastly. Who will take these dead animals away from the street or eat it up?

Then I put out a single big animal to the right hand ahead on a field. I suppose a kangaroo. No, it turns out that it is an emu. I take a photo of it and further roll on. The heat is still to be bear. Nevertheless, I soon must arrive!

Yes, the crossroad appears and with her the sign Wilmington. Tearing open my eyes after the sign for the caravan park, I cycle in the little town and follow the sign. But before I hold at a small businessman's store to be able to rest there maybe a little.

Outdoors already rule 42 ° C. Inside it feels chilly pleasantly. My eyes suck themselves firmly at a big piece of a water melon. I would like to eat that and can be given them with knife, fork and spoon. Behind the front door there is a board and two chairs.

Outdoors I read also the name to CAFE for this shop. Thus I sit down there and refresh myself in the marvellous fruit. One single poem!

Both dead kangaroos do not go out of my head and I ask the businessman: „Who gets them off the street, or will they go to seed there stinking and dry up?“

"No", he says. „Our birds and the fox do this in completely short time.“

The young salesclerk recommends me the Beautiful Valley Caravan Park. The other lies further in the wild interior. To pass away, no, I have no interest.

It does not last long up to my daily objective. The owner assigns to me kindly a big day room with three tennis tables and a television. Also my bicycle can come inside. Thus I do not need to build up my tent. In it I would be also roasted and everything in my panniers become roasted through. And the thermometer registers me in the room 38 ° C.

In my notebook I receive between my emails a tip how I can cool off in spite of the scorching heat: to hold my head under water and coat the nose thinly with vaseline from the outside and inside, then I shall buy from the drugstore correct water with salt and Nasal saline spray for the nasal mucous membranes.

But I am sometimes again as killed from the heat – even if five degrees less than outdoors – and lay me on the sofa which became opened out by the owner. When I awake again, I tear me together and plan to go to the drugstore to buy for me the nasal spray.

Because this caravan park lies, however, 1.5 km beyond the little town Wilmington and I am too decayed to go free of charge to the town, I enter the office and ask my landlord, who has a white pony as friend, for a drugstore.

„No, here is none, but tomorrow in Orrorroo. Make a handkerchief wet and place it around your neck. Here the small children are already educated for the protection of drying up against the heat so: The parents search small, round little stones for them, they boil them and give one of it to every child in the mouth where it must remain always. With it it is provided for the fact that new saliva is formed over and over again and does not dry up the oral mucosa. Brilliantly, right?“

How I should stand this scorching heat the whole months here, is mysterious to me. In addition, I also can not put back as wide distances during the day as I had planned for it. My bicycle tour becomes a letter with seven seals.

It is 4.00 pm. Here in the big day room in which I am quartered rule also already 40 ° C. I will see, how hot it is now outdoors. Outdoors there rules at the moment the same heat because some clouds have gathered and cover the sun. It is not real to the endurance!! This is why I collect myself a heart, goes to my caravan landlord and ask him: „Do you have for your guests no chill day room?“

„ No. “

„In my big room where I may sleep rule 45 ° C. I can not live there. Is here in this town a restaurant in which I can sit down up to the evening?“

„No, there is not a restaurant, only one hotel. Do you want to sleep there?“

„No, I am not rich. I will sleep in the big room if it has become chillier.“

„Come along with me. I bring you in a chill space.“

So I follow him to one of his small guest houses in which he brings me. Immediately he turns on the air conditioning. After a whole time there is the temperature of 33 ° C.

Montezuma hits me

18.01.2013: Wilmington – Orroorroo: 54 km

Today oh yes, my speedometer functions again. It also does not stand the heat. Anyway it is not reasonable to cycle in 50 ° C with a high loaded, heavy bicycle by this scorching sun.

Suddenly Montezumas revenge meets me. And no toilet is far and wide! Which disaster! From sleeping the speech can not be at this night. The heat here amasses lets flow my sweat in streams. I look at this as a slimness cure and roll unilaterally to the other side. At 4.30 pm my alarm clock rings.

When I step outside, I am not astonished badly: Yesterday the cross of the south stood still clear at the black night sky. And today early? Clouds race along the sky. The weather has overturned, just as it was written by my friends in facebook. But I did not trust the peace. But it is right! To Orroorroo today I can cycle completely safely. There’s a gale blowing.

Again back in my accommodation, the horizon changes the colour in bright yellow. All packed and the bicycle with the panniers pushed out, I start.

Rain droplets moisten my red panniers. Therefore, I dress me in my pink wind blouse. If it should be still properly raining, the wind blouse would be enough; since there are 23 ° C. Everything would dry fast again from the storm.

Between the dark and brighter clouds which race along at the sky, appears light blue sky. Soon the sun will also look through them. But, nevertheless, I have problems with the storm. He presses from the right substantially against my panniers. From home I know that I do not become fallen if I go in possibly high speed. The street is good. It is not damaged by frost. It becomes brighter and brighter. But there is not a sunrise as usual on account of the quite thick cloud cover. At 6.30 am I start because only then it is getting light.

How long will I need for this day, if the storm gets me later still from the front? But I think positively and recite to me my biblical saying: Be not afraid. Since see, I am all days up with you till the worlds end.

Thus I step substantially in the pedals. In this time still no car goes. The street belongs to me only. It exists of very coarse material which became, however, already flat from the cars. On the way I insert a break and eat from my sweet biscuits and drink a lot of water. On this resting place many rose cockatoos are sitting in the trees and shriek. And I roll further.

When a hotel is announced at the roadside, announces itself to me the normal hunger. But what stands here as a hotel, can be called only a ruin. However, there is a door at which I can ring to buy something. I do this. But nobody opens it. Thus I look exactly through the grid door and see to the left a rose cockatoo sitting on an armchair armrest. Thus I take the remaining distance under the wheels.

Once the storm would have almost upset me with my bicycle. Luckily I could still come fast enough from the click pedals and jump off. Sand storms sweep in front of me over the street. Sheep graze sometimes on the left, sometimes on the right on the earthy fields.

And then I reach already after 50 instead of 56 km Orroorroo. Pleasantly! Quite at the beginning I find the caravan park there and am cleared up very in detail about my future distance guidance in the Riverland by the owner. She owns good maps and charts for her guests. She also gives me a mosquito spray with the help of which the bothering flies disappear. She leads me to the best place for my tent where it stands later in the shade.

On account of my sleeping lack I lie down in my tent and fall right away asleep. On the way back from the shower to my tent I see a caravan driver with his wife coming out of their car and smiling to me. They greet me immediately with the statement: „You are from Germany and cycle here in Australia. Would you like to come with us to our caravan? We would like to invite you to have warm dinner.“

„But I am quite full and stand in the pajama here. My eyes already close of tiredness. Many thanks for your invitation. Immediately I must go to bed to get up tomorrow very early and continue my ride.“

We still talk about my tour and his in England graduated two big walking tours, first from coast to coast crosswise and then from John O'Groats in Scotland to Land's End. He shows me his taut calves. Yes, he is a sport man. I congratulate him and say goodbye.

While I roll me just so nicely comfortably into my small sleeping-bag, outside it begins to rain. The storm has completely decreased. Tomorrow he also may do this please.

19.01.2013: Orroorro – Jamestown: 70 km

At 4.00 am in the morning it is cold in the tent and outdoors still even more. The weather has totally overturned. This is, because I sent the heat by email home. I know this already from former. Outdoors it is floor-dark. And because my panniers stand up ready packed in the tent without the washing bag, I lie down once again on my ear. Here it is getting light since 6.00 am.

To my joy I find out that the storm has decreased. Well for me. The sky has thinned out. Far away many smaller clouds swim darkly at the light blue firmament. All people still sleep.

When I leave the caravan park, a man comes calling behind me on the street. He holds his toothbrush still in the hand and asks me: „In which direction would you like to go?“

„To Jamestown“, I give to the answer.

„Yes, to there I also want to go with my caravan and will overtake you later.“

Smiling we say goodbye. Then I roll in the morning. It cycles well; since, finally, substantially I have got a good night's sleep.

Slowly there arises the wind which becomes apparent stronger and stronger to me and my bicycle. My street to Jamestown cuts through many wheat fields. Later I see on both sides earthy fields on which sheep graze. As soon as they note me, they race away.

Twice I insert a rest in the street, may not sit down, however, because to the side of the street there are a lot of ants. I had to ascertain this unpleasantly on my journey of Ceduna to Wirrula when I sat down simple-minded in the shade of a Mallee-Tree to rest. Nevertheless, there I had really sat down in an ant-hill! Well, this happens to me only once, I hope.

To the right hand before me a kangaroo hops along the fence, crosses the street and continues his escape from me in other jumps. Later I see it again on the right side. Further it can not make way on account of the fences on both sides of the big street. A fox soon laces in front of me over the street from the right to the left, later from the left to the right.

And completely a lot much later there lies a knockeded down and killed fox on the big street. Such a splendid, healthy animal! I am properly sorry for him, certainly because he could not further flee on account of the fences. Whether has he still to supply baby animals under construction? Who feeds them now?

After one more rest, because the storm strongly comes from the front, I interrupt my tour to Jamestown once again because on the right at an old house stands a sign "Winery". A man rises there from a pickup truck, lets down his ugly, gray spotted dog and opens the door. I hope to be able to eat here something. He shows me in, however, but he must work even outdoor of the house. He comes from Adelaide and has in the near his cows. I may sit down inside. This building is probably used only by men as a meeting place for parties I think.

I go further to the rear space. There stands an ancient piano and besides an entire percussion arrangement. I take a photo of everything and turn to the exit. In this manner I enter once again the first room which I have not perceived at all so properly with the entry.

Here stand four softy sofas and on a board witty, even made figures from metal canes. But what shoots „the bird“ and what allows me no more to wait for the landlord, but flee from here, this is besides the upper skull of a death's-head. Besides, the cut-off man's head of Rottnest Island occurs to me. No, this is too much for me! Outdoors I catch me my bicycle and flee.

At noon I reach the small town Jamestown. On the caravan park I receive a pitch for my tent which lies, however, still totally in the hot sunshine. If the sun has walked further around, I set up my tent in the evening; since I am very tired and long for my restful and deserving sleep. Five guinea fowls from Africa peck the vermin from the lawn which is just sprayed.

About 6.00 pm the sun has walked around and leaves enough shade on the very much soft and big lawn. Finally, I can set up my tent and go in it to bed. It is still warm. Therefore, I am only in my pajama.

20.01.2013: Jamestown – Burra: 73 km

At night I awake of the cold. My thermometer registers only 10 ° C. For this my soft, yellow and warm AUSTRALIA Fleece jacket purposes and already lies beside my sleeping-bag. Thus I lie down again. But then I awake again because my thighs freeze in my small sleeping bag. I cover that with my small fleece towel. Over the end of my sleeping bag I push my big pocket. Blessedly I fall asleep again and awake at 4.00 am in the early morning.

Yes, 10 ° C outdoors. Which clothes today? Luckily I have not sent completely the bicycle clothes for cold days, nevertheless, to Townsville. I start in the cold morning. The sky is cloudless. Yesterday my landlord told me that it should become today to 30 ° C. With it I can live.

On a very quiet street I roll gently uphill in the direction of Hallett. Today it goes on the relatively lowest mountain distance on the other side of the mountain range. First these become 16 km against the stronger and stronger growing headwind. Then I may race delightfully downhill and there 8 km along in the wide valley. Then it goes, however, only 8 km uphill. From there on top I look down in another valley and towards at the next mountain hurdle. When I cycle up there, I must descend really still and the rest uphill. But it has been worthwhile.

To recover me a little, here I insert a small break. Then I roll like the wind delightfully down and with some tailwind on and on. I reach Burra and search the caravan park.

But it is not there where it ordinarily lies, namely at the beginning of the town. Tomorrow it should become hot again, but the level of the distance totally flat. Which luck!

At the registration I receive a pitch which glows at the moment still in the hot sunshine. About evening the sun in the sky should have turned so far that it lies in shade. And, nevertheless, I am so very tired!

Now I wait at the crying of the cockatoos for the fact that the sun has disappeared far enough behind the big trees that I can build up my tent in the shade and go to bed straight away. And, nevertheless, I am so very tired! And, nevertheless, tomorrow I have birthday – quite alone in the far!

My birthday away from home

21.01.2013: Burra – Morgan: 90 km

At night I awake again by the cold, dress me more warmly and go then on sleeping, however, till 4.40 am. Outdoors it is getting light only at 6.00 am. Also only then the cockatoos and black Australian magpies begin her loud morning concert.

And also if the cockatoos fly in crowds about the place screamingly to and fro, I am always surprised that they produce no collision in the winds.

Now I can diminish my tent already much faster without wearing out myself. Between 6.30 and 7.00 am I leave as a rule my caravan park and start into the rising sun to my still approaching adventures.

But after the fall which did it before Wirrula the Lowrider suspension has bent a little bit to the right. But the front wheel can still roll in between without difficulties. I hope it will stay!

From my caravan park I must drive 2.5 km back again up to the crossroad to Morgan. But a level and longer gradient joins this again. If nothing more puts out to me. My legs have gained strength. In addition, my bicycle owns a miraculous "swimming ring" in the middle in front.

After both first crossings of my today's passes it goes down in a delightfully wide valley. I already knew about it and am glad about it. Now I roll with speed of 28-35 km/h along. It is a being intoxicating feeling! Thus I had fancied for every day. But to have rather such a day than nobody.

It's sunny from the blue sky cheering up down and would like to accompany me on my today's tour in the Riverland. On both sides there grows the Bluebush which the sheep eat here. This Bluebush maybe grows up to a meter and shines silvery-light blue. I come long time through these areas. All together seven kangaroos, six emus and a fox jump there within sight.

Strong sights! Kangaroos of Australia are the animals which I search here and would like to see unconditional! Here on this endless and almost extinct distance they are present. Unfortunately, three new also from cars killed kanguroos lie aside of the street, also one fox and what fascinates me mostly, a small owl.

From his wing feathers I pull out for me on both sides in each case four swing feathers with the big, white spot. They may carry me ideally along the highways. I present myself to be now a big owl which spreads out its wonderful wings and flies along the highway.

After total 90 km I reach by ferry Morgan my today's caravan park whose camp sites lie in the roasting sunshine.

Today is my birthday. My Klaus-Otto, my kids and many friends have congratulated me by computer. Indeed, here thus I am physically alone, but connected, however, by computer with my friends. This is a very pleasant and heart-refreshing feeling. Many thanks.

Now it becomes time to set up my tent and push my bicycle on the River shore where completely broad and wonderfully soft, thick and springy lawn stripes are available for the tents. The sun lights up the Murray-River and with him the ferry which swims lastingly from a river side to the other in strong baggage trains. Nearby young people play. In the river the children who are protected by an adult have a bath.

When I have built up my tent, finally, of course also my base and my thin sleeping bag stretched out, suddenly it has been getting dark outdoors. What luck that I went down early enough.

The young people have also disappeared in their sleeping holes.

In the Murray River land

22.01.2013: Morgan – Waikerie: 38 km

Well slept I awake only at 6.00 am. Outdoors there laughs the bird Laughing Hans. Today I would like to cycle only to Waikerie, because it is too hot for the long distance from here to Renmark. It could become hot again. Only at 8.00 am I leave the not guarded camping site below here and take position for the ferry.

The short distance down onto the ferry is very steep. 20 m before I begin to cycle very slow. It works good. I am the onliest guest on the ferry. The ferryman wishes me a save tour, when I pass him and push my bicycle up the small hill at the riverside.

No sign stands in the road. I believe that I am here anyhow wrong. But to me was told that I shall continue my ride on this side. Again the morning sun shines from the cloudless sky. Thus I cycle further with a nasty feeling. Ordinarily I should have gone eastwards. However, by the shade of the trees I see that I move westwards. On my map I can recognize a small bend. Thus it goes on.

And really, after a long, very wavy journey I see the small sign Waikerie. I am correct on tour. If I come there very early, I will consider if I can cycle further on.

In the beginning I cross vacant and wild scenery, later I find wine plantations. This looks very good here! But if I remember of South Tirol in Italia and their wine plantations, these vineyard owners have no notion of the fact that the wild desires with many sheets must be cut off, so that the strength goes only to the grapes and the sun to the berries. The wine plantations pile up. Those of which I take a photo are red bunches of grapes. Later the wine plantations remove in orange and then grapefruit plantations.

Now I reach the Murray River again and see him quite deeply on the bottom to the left flowing through wooded area. The Murray River is the lifeline for whole South Australia. All people and animals here are dependent on it.

However, the plantations are not close to each other, but are interrupted by wild areas.

Suddenly I discover by the first tree row some young people and an adult who do something and talk. This is interesting for me. I turn round, push my bicycle on the other side of the street, put it down there, take my camera, go to them and ask: „May I take photos here?“

„Yes, you may do it. Where are you from?“

„From Germany.“

On it the adult asks in the young round: „Who of you is from Germany?“

These are three persons: a young girl and two young men. All persons here clean freshly garlic onions from the roots and the dirty external cover.

First I go to the girl who smiles friendly and inviting at me. We both talk excellently in German. I take a photo of her and promise to send this photo to her parents. Likewise I do it with the both diligent young men.

The men tell me, that they are working here since the last year and wish to earn much money, to move as tourists the last weeks through Australia. But they earn so very few money. All will go away by paying for their room and meals.

I comfort them and mean: „Soon the grapefruits and the wine are ripe with which you can earn much more money.“

They smile obsessedly. They came from Germany to Sydney, from where the work successively is assigned to them. But they will hold out certainly! Thus I cycle further.

In a service station I interrupt my journey. I have a longing for ice-cold drinking chocolate. With the businessman's woman and her granddaughter I come to the conversation, because I carry my bicycle helmet on the head. That what I am telling to them about my tour here in Australia is very interesting for both ladies.

From the 70-years-old lady the grandparents came from Germany. Unfortunately, I forget to ask them where they lived there and why they have emigrated at that time. These both ladies can neither speak German nor understand it.

And when I tell them about the cut-off head which one people found on the beach of Rottnest Island, they tell me that it was a 10-year-old girl who found this head in a bag. Later one found out that this man was full of drugs. This lady does not know any more. Thus I leave this gas station and have to cycle only 10 km to Waikerie. Every now and then I see to my left hand on the bottom the Murray River.

I still create these last kilometers and cycle on a very nice caravan park which unfortunately is more expensive, also $ 10 more than the others. I received under high trees a grass place and have put up my tent immediately. Now I am answering all my birthday congratulations at a board in the laundry and write.

At the foreign workers in the backpacker hostel

23.01.2013: Waikerie – Renmark: 90 km

In the middle of the night I awake again from the cold. This time I do not become warm again. At 5.00 am I get up tiredly, roll up my base and find out that my sleeping-bag is sweated in the area of my feet. To be protected against the moving cold wind I had put the end of my sleeping bag into a pocket. Therefore my feet became wet. Thus I put down it outdoors on my bicycle in such a way that the wind can dry it.

Yesterday under the board this spider already hung. Whether it is toxic, I do not know. It hangs still expectantly under its net and waits for new food. I do a big curve around this board. From now all boards or benches are suspicious to me. Everywhere such a little animal can lurk. But I will still get used to it. Nevertheless, the people here also live with it – why I not also?

Drawn with new clothes completely, I return to my tent and pack everything on my bicycle. And when I want to lay the round, blue cool box on my porter, occurs to me that I cotransport 2 l of water in it still since Perth. Why, actually? Nevertheless, the water was intended for the Nullarbor. And, nevertheless, this area lies, fortunately, already behind me.

And over the day I drink at most 1 ½ l. Why do I still struggle under a load, actually, of it? I get out the water bag and water with it a tree. Unusual easily the round, blue cool box can be laid on my porter. Now I will put in it all my food. I then I can get at this better in the breaks.

Thus I take the street to Renmark under my wheels with the beaming morning sun and 16 ° C. The street is quite wavy. But on account of my baggage relief I can come uphill pleasantly easily. Pulling the bicycle helmet deeply in front in the forehead, the sun does not blind me. It curls up excellently. Waikerie is surrounded by endless wine plantations. I stop again to have a look at the grapes. Deep-blue! I take a photo of them and go on. Later I stop again to see whether here hang yellow grapes. No, also deep-blue. I nibble a small berry of it. It melts as sweet as sugar and juicy on my tongue! A whole grape walks in my pannier for the evening. Without bad conscience on account of many grapes which hang there on every wine plant I cycle happily further.

In a place I find a shop, in which tires are sold. This reminds me of my brother Helmut, who was the master by profession of cars. Therefore, I know that here intelligent and vigorous men exist. I stop and push my bicycle in the big foyer.

A man sits in his open office and looks completely surprised at me who stands with my bicycle helmet on the head and the loaded bicycle in the hall. He comes with expression to me. And then I explain him my bad luck and show him my lowrider suspension which is twisted to the right in the front wheel. Only 1 cm still exists between my traversing wheel and the metal curve.

Quickly I take the small panniers and the handlebar bag from the bicycle and leave to him my bicycle. He does not need long to know what is to be done against it. Immediately he pushes the bicycle in the next hall in which his colleague is occupied with a big trucker wheel, asks him to come, to knee down in such a way that the front wheel is got caught tightly between his knees and turns on top my handlebar.

And suddenly my lowrider suspension sits again properly!!!! A miracle!!! I illuminate both men and thank them. For them it was only one small change in their work, and they have helped me with pleasure. From now I can step on again with the best knowledge and conscience fully in the pedals without being afraid that sometime suddenly the wheel is blocked by the lowrider suspension. A great feeling!

After some time I am pointed out to a good photo possibility. Quite expectantly I cycle further and search it. It is the Murray River who flows under one and later along another bridge. I lean my bicycle against the bridge at the railing, walk at the balustrade and perpetuate this legendary river in my camera. On a side an at least 20 m high sienna-red cliff wall rises. Dead trees like from an avenue stand on the other side of the bridge in the water.

Thus I further roll on. Predominantly at least on one side vines are to be seen. The other side is covered either with wild, untouched nature or shows stubble fields.

In this manner the road trains do not come to conflicts and can simply go straight ahead. However, every now and then it is honked before. Thus I cycle against Renmark.

Keeping a lookout after a caravan park, I penetrate on and on into this town known for the Murray River. But I do not want to go on the first caravan park because he lies in the interior. I inquire in a service station whether there is here still the second caravan park. Yes, there it is. In addition I should go on. Beyond the place he is on the river.

When I reach it and announce myself, I should pay per night $ 39. And in this place I wanted to spend two nights! This exceeds my budget. Thus I turn round and would like to look around for a backpacker hotel. Yes, there should be two. I find the first one. It is unoccupied. I follow the tip after the second and find it actual. First it is asked on the phone: „You are actual 75 years?“

„Yes, this is correct. I am on the move by bicycle here in Australia.“

„You can come.“

All kinds of young people populate it. A bed is assigned to me in a 4-bed room. Both girls, both from Korea, remove their things of both empty beds for me. But I still leave all baggage outdoors on my bicycle, take only my small notebook and sit down in the day room to answer my correspondence.

Here I read that mine yesterday from Gudrun in Waikerie taken up video stands already in facebook and was also already seen by some. Unfortunately, my English speaking friends can understand nothing of it. With the next time I must have immediately at hand the translation.

A part of the youngsters just present here have gone by car into the town for shopping. I was also asked to join them. But I did my sport today. Because I booked for two nights, tomorrow I can sleep long. Tomorrow I would like to look at the harbour and at the paddle wheelers they usual shall be here. From them I wish to take photos.

24.01.2013: Rest day in Renmark: 0 km

Now I buy for me this small rolled up medium blue fleece cover with the Australian flag on it.

On the way I had taken a photo of three young Germans at the work and had promised to send this photo home to their parents. Thus I lack a photo shop in which I receive the photos from my photo chip. Yes, there is this shop also in BIG W. On the back of the photos I write the address and besides to the parents small news that it goes well to them. On the postcards come stamps and fly to Germany.

The way to the post is long. It lies at the river loop. The sun burns pitilessly down. But I carry a hat with wide brim. Beside the post I have a look at the roses becoming a little bit withered. Just the house owner comes out of the door. I ask him whether these roses are his which smell so delightfully.

“Yes", he answers. „This time, unfortunately, we have the hottest summer as long as I can think back. The sun burns so much on the roses that the petals begin from the outside to roll inside.“

Arriving again at my accommodation, I find again there the young people who spend the night here. One of them comes from Hannover, the only German here. He tells me: „This backpacker hotel is inhabited, actually, only by the young workers from all over the world. In the morning we are fetched, brought to our job and driven back afterwards again. I am already since the beginning of August, 2012 here and have saved money. Soon I want to have a look first of all at Australia. And if the money should be to an end, I want to enter again into the working process. Thus everybody makes it here.“

While I sit here and write, the television runs before some of the young people who consume her self-made food and watch, besides, the sketches in the TV program.

Tomorrow it should go further in the direction of Mildura. Because the distance is for one day too long for me, I will start and roll to the middle of the distance to the camping site which is marked in the map and sleep there. Water should exist.

25.01.2013: Renmark – Lake Cullulleraine: 87 km

At 5.00 am I stand it no more in the bed. Not to wake up both girls from Korea, I get up quite carefully and disappear in the bathroom.

In the kitchen I come to the conversation with a young Dutchman, Nick, who stays every year in May with the KIEL WEEK in Germany as a Skipper of a traditional sailing boat in Kiel. He speaks perfectly German. I ask him if he stays next year again in Kiel to announce himself please to me.

A young Chinese, Mason, from Hong Kong, wishes me a good journey with my bicycle. Also the young Englishman with the golden hair says quite nicely farewell to me and wishes me a successful bicycle tour here in Australia.

When I would like to start, just two more young girls sit outdoors at the table. I ask whether one of them can take photos of me by the start please. This acts one, while the other also wishes me a good journey.

The young people who live here still work not everything in the same group. Ken who commands everything here has every year workers for whom he provides a whole year of work. They work in different groups or only somewhere, however, are driven then there and are fetched again.

Thus I start and go past shortly after to the caravan park which I disdained with my arrival. But it should probably be like that, that I should get to know the young and very diligently in the chord working people and might also talk to them. It was very instructive for me.

The wind becomes almost a storm with wind force of at least 6 and then from the front. But well rested and it is still early in the morning with 18 ° C, it cycles quite well. The trucks and road trains can not shake me yet so much.

Them rushes with an infernal noise along me – actually, always with a safe distance – and lets dance me with my bicycle with its whirlwind in the storm that my white bicycle blouse becomes drawn high up in my back.

This recurs often and more and more often. Later most road trains and trucks come from the front on the other side. When the wind still blows from the front and then from the south, her whirlwind reaches me also always, but long not as strongly as that which overtakes me directly in my direction.

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!

01.02.2013: First rest day in Elmore: 0 km

Only at 6.30 am I awake. This is a very good sign! The clothes layers have not missed her warm effect. No wind shakes more my tent. But from outdoors also no sunshine falls through my tiny tent window. The sky is yet not really bright. No little bird sings. On my thermometer I see 10 ° C, remain lying snuggling and am glad of my life that I do not need to get up today so early and to ride off.

Finally, I tear me together and go to the sanitary arrangements! While I stand now here with my just unpacked small notebook at the board on which babies can be wrapped, the nice lady from yesterday enters again. She talks to me very in detail about my distance guidance. She and her husband have gone with the caravan also already around Australia.

She knows a lot from this vantage point and gives me good tips. I would have pressed her best! She calls Sue. I may say “you” to her. She asks for my email address and is very much interested with her husband in my second leg of the journey. And if I have sometimes problems, I should write to them by email. They will help me. She is again an angel on my long bicycle trip. Thank you very much!

I am surprised all the time at it, why here the birds do not twitter and flute. Overnight it was certainly also too cold for those. Understandably. And with this storm they can probably keep even hard on the strongly branches swaying to and fro. How then, besides, still twitter from the most full throat and passion? This has probably passed to them. I also had not done.

While everywhere to Echuca the Gallahs populate the trees and the air with their shouting, there are in Echuca almost only the white cockatoos. Thus who had complained before to the noise of the gallahs, that should be taught here of another. These do a noise still much bigger. But a laughing hans nowhere is a guest in the trees. I am tired and go to sleep.

02.02.2013: Second rest day in Elmore: 0 km

Except sleep, eat, drink, bought another very good warm jacket for in the morning and in the evening, nothing else has happened. Tomorrow I would like to cycle to Warnambool in several day stages further to the Great Ocean Road. I hope that it does not go too precipitously over the mountains.

At 6.00 am of Australian time I am arranged with my daughter Gudrun and her both small daughters Anna-Lena and Marie by Skype. A whole hour we talk by video between Spain and Australia. What can create the technology everything! I am inspired! A really technology with the Skype! Many thanks, you engineers whom you have created this!

And I do this Skype conversation by accumulator; since my family would like to see my tent and my sphere. Thus I walk with it on the caravan park to and fro. They are inspired! Only my accumulator became of it quite empty.

And while I stand there in the sanitary arrangements, a lady enters the space who has put up her tent just with her husband beside their car. She comes at close range from Rotterdam in the Netherlands and had often cycled around the Isle sea. This was a distance for a brief day, but with a miraculous view always on the water with its water sportsmen.

However, she herself does not cycle with pleasure. She is a painter. Also here she exercises her hobby. Then her husband passes away, for example, only here in the area of Melbourne where it is wonderful. There is held and painted. In the next morning she would like to dismiss me.

A look to my computer – the orange lamp colour has changed in green. The accumulator is charged. Thus I go to the tent, pull all my warm things about one another and crawl like a thick metric ton in my – luckily – wide sleeping-bag.

Across the watershed in direction southwest

03.02.2013: Elmore – Castlemaine: 88 km

At night I dreamed that I stand here in Australia with the famous talkmaster Gerd Hausotto at a canal which is covered on both sides high with reed. And while we talk, a big container ship drives past us. We turn round and look behind to it. But what stands there in completely big characters crosswise at the back of this ship?

HERMINE VON STAMPA

IN AUSTRALIA

I look very bewildered to Gerd Hausotto. He smiles. The big ship passes on the canal and disappears behind reed.

When I creep at 4.00 am in the morning out of my tent, put my flip flops at the feet and take directly a look to the sky, the cross of the south stands quite clear over me. And now the full moon has shrunk to the half moon. Yesterday he still stood vertically in the sky. Today at night he lies like a bowl crosswise at the firmament.

I slept wonderfully. No cold wind whizzed by my tent. I was also drawn very warmly. At 6.15 am I push by break of dawn – no, aurora – my loaded bicycle off the caravan park. Both nice women who wanted to dismiss me, actually still sleep.

Calm. The sky colours slowly change indeed more and more intensely orange. It cycles very well. I can do substantially a lot of speed. Every now and then a car drives past me. When the sun scales the horizon, I take a photo of it and cycle further.

At 8.00 am there awakes the wind. The warmth of the sunrays and the coolness of the night fight with each other for the prerogative. Today this swings slowly high. Now the birds also begin – we announce to carol the magpies – shout for joy. I admire these black-and-white birds very much. They can play the flute so melodically and snap how yodel in two parts.

With this line of thought the time trickles away. I see on both sides stubble fields, grazing sheep and wine plantations.

When I arrive Bendigo, I find a cycle path in the whole town on my way. Racing cyclists pass away in groups or only in the sunshine on their valuable bicycle and in their coloured tricots. Yes, with such a light bicycle I could also take up more speed. But I am quite contented with my long-term tempo.

Bendigo is a pretty and bigger town. But from now it goes „to the thing“ what concerns the area. Now it becomes mountainous. Luckily Malte Wiedemann from Hamburg had recommended me to let build the quite small gearwheel of the Hardo Wagner's bicycle on my old racing bicycle of 1985. Now with it I can master the coming mountains well. „Many thanks, dear Malte!”

8 km before Castlemaine I am steered on another street. In the next town, Harcourt, I descend in front of a small shop in which one can receive everything. I must first console myself of all after these mountains with food. Here it gives to my bright joy potato buffer. In addition I let still roast fried eggs. And what I never did, but, nevertheless, on this tour is, that I buy a Coka Cola and drink it.

The woman who produces food in the kitchen starts talking to me. She is completely inspired by my bicycle tour and tells me that her son had done a round trip by bicycle around Europe – in three months. I praise him very much. He has also earned this. And when I ask this woman, who is smiling at me, from where are her forefathers came to Australia, she tells me that her father came from Scotland.

And when I tell her that I had cycled by bicycle in England from Land's End to the last house of Scotland in John O'Groats and that Scotland is very nice, she is completely inspired. She calls to me her given name Amanda and asks for my email address to be able to talk furthermore to me. And when I tell to her that I write about this bicycle tour a book and now she seems also in it, she would later also like to buy the book absolutely.

So I leave very happy and something recovered the shop, swing once more onto my heavy bicycle and roll along the next 8 km till Castlemaine.

In the interim I have put up already my tent on the caravan park.

When I come to my tent, a young cat strays there around and might absolutely with me into my tent. However, I do not want this and scare it away. It comes again. I hunt of it. When I lie in the darkness so really nicely warmly in the sleeping-bag, I am surprised at a sudden, bright noise.

And what is that? Suddenly the small cat stands in my pretent and hits the claws of her little front paws under loud meow in the aviation grid of my tent. Well, however, there the fury packs me and I hit with the level hand against it. It frightens her so much at it that it disappears really completely.

04.02.2013: Castlemaine – Ballarat: 89 km

At 6.15 am I leave by 10 ° C with bicycle lighting the caravan park by aurora and calm. My legs have recovered. The new day can come. The cold creeps through my thin summer-bicycle gloves. Forward I had sent the warmer ones from Perth to Townsville. I clench the teeth. Fortunately, I do not freeze in the upper part of the body on account of the warm pink jacket. From the inside I accept the sweating with pleasure.

By such an early hour few cars go. The street 300 can be driven well. For my purposes the street signs are complete enough. Here I need no JPS. Every now and then an Australian magpie plays completely briefly the flute. But with this cold the birds have no fun after singing. Totally understandably.

My street from Castlemaine indeed leads slowly uphill. I can serve also well the circuit of my bicycle with more precipitous passages. The departure is short. I pass away on a plateau. On both sides I see yellow grass.

The street passes away like an avenue between trees. The morning fog still lies like cotton all around on the nature. Far away I see other small mountain hilltops. It is great fun to cycle here – till the street then stretches in almost endless height. Wood and quiet surround me, until sometimes every now and then a car drives past me.

Actually, it looks thus like in our German low mountain ranges, here only eucalyptus trees stand instead of our birches, pines, beeches and oaks. The sun has already risen, however, no wind rises. Pleasantly. But then it goes with me to valley. I deeply lie down in the racing handlebar and race at high speed down.

By the fact that I bend deeply forwards I shoot almost like a ball in the depth and can come up without stepping at least by my swing to three quarters without stepping the next piling up gradient.

When Daylesford appears, finally, before me, I register to my left side a blue wall which stretches straight across the horizon. What is that? Is that a cold cloud bank which is pushed by the Indian Ocean on the mainland? Will expect me cold and rain on the Great Ocean Road? These would be no pleasant views.

In Daylesford I urgently need rest and sit down in a café and let give me an omelette. I freeze. Why? I do not know it. I drink hot, sweet milk like dying of thirst. It really begins to warm up my inside. And then the waitress puts to me the omelette on the table. I ask her: „Is the dark whom we can see on the left a cloud bank?“

"No", she replies, „this is a mountain back.“

Now definitely I am better again. Well fortified I tackle the town mountain. On top a warning stands about snow and ice. The speed should be adapted.

Endlessly long I roll to valley. That is the fact that I must drive up from this depth again. This still recurs 3 to 4 times. Then a longer, level distance joins. But then the next long gradient expects me far up. From there on top I look far in the mountainous country. In order to take photos I may not descend. In addition I am already too tired.

By this height shortly before and to Creswick blossoming potato fields apply to my left side. Also the weed which grows here in the road edge looks like at home. Only the trees exist almost only of young eucalyptus. Slowly it becomes warm. My thermometer points 21 ° C. This temperature fits exactly to the "home" potato fields. Every now and then black and white coloured cows stand on the pasture. But predominantly the farmers breed here the black cows of the French.

Because my legs are quite rather tired, the remaining distance of 18 km to Ballarat stretches very much in the length. With Ballarat it concerns a big town. It still lasts surely long, until I reach the town inside. Till then still no caravan park sign has appeared.

The tomorrow's distance of 125 km does not go for me from the head. I do not create that with this mountain position. There something must happen. A bus passes me in the town. Whether does one take me to Mortlake?

After another time by riding my bicycle into the city center I find on the left a sign to the tourist information. I follow it and enter there. Four nice ladies try by computer, phone and briefcase of information to help me as I can put further humanely the distance to Mortlake. They call at the bus society. Taking there an unpacked bicycle is rejected.

As a result I push my bicycle to the bus depot approx 200 m away and ask in the counter whether the next day a bus takes me to Mortlake. But this does not go. These buses own no freight space under the seats. In addition, taking a push bike is forbade legally. I should go again back to the information and allow to check whether there is, nevertheless, a small caravan park on the way.

I enter the information again. The nice ladies look at me and collapse all equally questioning. They find out on the Internet about Skipton whether there is a place to stay. If there is, it decided too expensive. There they come on the flash idea that I own a small tent which may be put up there on the lawn beside the golf course. An excellent idea! Tomorrow I will do this. In this manner the long distance to Mortlake is cut in two humanely mobile stages.

Now here I need in Ballarat a favorable place to stay. Most favorable I can live in the Western Hotel. One lady announces me there and tapes to me on the local town plan the route which I must go along to come there.

In order to cycle I have with the best will in the world no more desire. My body asks always after a bicycle tour for a rest. Thus I push my bicycle in the right direction. Because the cross-road does not appear yet, I appeal to a lady. She still lives behind the Western Hotel and wants to bring me there.

This she also does, while she tells me that her daughter spent the Christmas and New Year's Eve in Germany with a German she got to know here in Australia quite happily. Germany is very nice.

In the Western Hotel the young landlord receives me quite friendly. He gives me a Coke which I drink up like a drowning in a train. Then he shows me my double room which I may only inhabit. He also shows me from here on top, how I can come down into the backyard to my locked bicycle to drag my many panniers up on stairs without carrying it through the guest's space.

All up here is soon concluded and my bicycle on the lockable backyard. Now, however, I must hurry up; since I am arranged with Gudrun in Spain by Skype at 5.00 pm for the next video for facebook. But I can not create this in this small time. With half an hour of delay we make up for it. The video is taken up by Gudruns computer. Tomorrow she will put it then in facebook.

Because tomorrow I have to drive only 52 km - who knows how mountainous this distance is - I do not need to start already at 6.00 am. I am totally broken!

05.02.2013: Ballarat – Warnambool: 21 km

While I stand stark-naked in the washing room before the showers, the door suddenly rises and a tattooed, medium young man might in. „Hallo!“, I say, „uno momento. You can immediately come in.“

The door shuts. I slip quite quickly in my pajamas and let the man enter. "Sorry", he thinks quite embarrassed.

„Oh this is quite okay in such a way“, I answer.

Shortly he has disappeared again and I shortly after also to draw me. Besides that, my dirty bicycle clothes from yesterday I take in the hands. Now I also know, which is why I froze yesterday so much. My warmer bicycle trousers and the warmer bicycle shorts are still bathed in sweat. Today this is why I must dress me with the quite thin long bicycle trousers with the quite thin small bicycle underpants.

Soon I carry my panniers and bags down to my bicycle in the court. We have only 12 ° C. But today they do not disturb me, maybe only in the hands on account of my thin summer gloves.

Yesterday the young landlord painted for me on a paper the road which brings me to the Glenelg-Highway. Today on this I cycle till Skipton, to set up my tent for the night in the wild park. Today it is cool and hazy.

There lasts a whole time, until I bump into this highway. Then westwards it goes. Here long road trains and all kinds of trucks roll. But for me a side stripe with a very smooth surface is available. It curls well up. The cars still drive everything with light. Is it foggy now or hazy? I do not know it. My hands freeze. Luckily I own the new pink jacket. In it it is poodle-warm to me.

When I cycle in such a way, there honks from the back a truck. Hello, I think. Why that? Nevertheless, I cycle courteously on the side stripe. But the truck honks not only three times, but slowly goes beside me and on the right on a free place. Out rises the long-distance lorry driver's driver who came today early to the washing room when I was responsible there.

Smiling he asks me: „May I take you to Warnambool? Our landlord told to me about you and that you are on the way to Warnambool.“

I am happy and flat. Well, of course there I do not say "no". This man is so strong that he can lift my high loaded bicycle – without my handlebar bag and the two lowrider bags from my front wheel - high on his follower. I would never have held this for possible! I praise him. So he drives with me through the early morning hours. Soon the fog disappears. The sun shines. Slowly the country becomes flat.

We both talk excellently. In this manner I learn. how it comes that the Australian trees grow again after a forest fire. Every now and then there stand on both sides the charred eucalyptus trees which show, however, everything a thick sheet roof. I ask him: „How does this come? If with our trees in Europe the bark is burned or is damaged all around, the tree dies without fail because between the bark and the wood the juices are transported by the roots till the sheet points.“

"Yes", answers my male angel. „Here with these trees the juice is carried by the roots up to the sheet points in the middle of the trunk. Therefore, they survive the heat and the fire.“

I am dumbfounded. „I never have heard this. Here the dear God let grow another kind of trees. - Jason, in Australia all prices are so terribly high. How can you pay that, actually? Or are you all so rich?“

„One should undertake no holiday traveling or bicycle tours, always stay at home, cook his food, have possibly an own garden for vegetables and if it goes, he shall sew and knit his clothes.“

“This is such as back in the past, Jason. “

“Yes.”

In front of us we see small mountains on which trees sporadically stand. Jason tells: „Actually, the mountains were bald. But the birds distributed everywhere the undigested seminal punches as well as on these mountains with their fertilizer. Therefore, there grow trees.

The birds substitute for the gardeners. – And tomorrow where are you driving down? You should use absolutely the possibility in Geelong and go with the ferry to Tasmania. There you can have a look at this absolutely wonderful island. Later you would be sorry not to have done it. “

With this new possibility in the head to enrich my bicycle tour in Australia I sit dreaming beside him. He passes his car-street atlas of Tasmania to me. „Have an exactly look in it and also do it!“

We talk excellently. On the way it is unloaded and gone on. At noon we reach by beaming sunshine and a look over the blue Indian Ocean Warnambool. In the main street my angel holds and gets down to me my bicycle. „This is quite a lot heavy“, he thinks appreciatively.

"Yes, I know. Thank you for taking me to this town. Later you get a book that I am writing about this bicycle tour and have translated it into English. After all, you will now also perpetuates in it. "

Moreover, he is very happy and gives me his business card. He also gets one of mine, if one should be lost from both. And suddenly honking "my“ truck driver rolls on.

The next problem is: Where can I set up my tent or sleep today? The hostel from two years ago no longer exists. At the Backpacker Hotel no one picks up the phone. I should go there the same time. It is not far. But I can not find it and ask another friendly woman. She points me the caravan park on the coast. I am standing to call by telephone the caravan park. Because I can not understand the woman there, I ask this kind woman, to make the call. She accepts and shows exactly how to get there, because I am already at Lake Pertobe.

It's not far. So I roll over there and get a pitch for me. An employee who is to ensure cleanliness, sees me standing on this place and wonders why I always look down at the ground. He comes with his little vehicle approaches and asks me: "Why do you not want to set up your tent?”

I show him the rough underground and the sand. “No, here I can not set up my tent.”

He is willing to help me, because he is with enthusiasm why I am riding my bicycle with panniers. He also is an enthusiastic bicycle rider. And when he hears that I am from Germany, he tells proud to me, that he has two bicycle friends, who also took part at the Tour de France.

Then he remembers my problem and promised me to choose together a really good grass court for me on this great caravan park for the night. And we find it. It goes with the small car back to my bicycle. My luggage is loaded and I can go ahead of him to the new little home. There, I thank him. He wants to announce my new stand at the front desk. And then he disappears waving.

Before I put my small laptop in action, I go first to the Indian Ocean and take a photo. He lies in front of me in all its beauty with bright blue water and tipped with whitecaps waves rolling onto the shore. Surfers are lying in the surf on their surfboard and ride off the waves. A wonderful sight, this ocean!

I am now fed up and tired and go to sleep. The surf roars up here. The wind will probably blow again through my tent. As precaution I must put all my thick clothes about each other to keep me warm at night, when the Antarctic air then finds its way here.

At the Great Ocean Road

06.02.2013:

Warnambool – Port Campbell: 73 km

That with the wind, which would draw in the night through my tent, was nothing. It was the same tired like me and fell asleep.

My pink jacket is soon too warm in the sleeping bag. So I put it up and do it to the yellow fleece jacket on the sleeping bag. The fog horn toots and the lighthouse sends its rays at intervals through my little window of my tent.

So I roll off in the morning. In the city I find the large intersection with the Princess Highway, a Freeway. On this I shall head east once. At the beginning I cycle on a cycle lane next to the car track. When I leave the town, I have to go as bicyclist somewhere else. But later I achieved it again. As a precaution, I ask a woman who just gets out of the car next to me: "Good day, please excuse me, but how can I take my bicycle to the Great Ocean Road?"

She recommends me: "You completely are confident cycling on the shoulder of the Freeway. Otherwise it does not go to the crossroads, where the slow drivers must turn to the right on the Great Ocean Road."

"Thank you."

I hope that by then the police will not take me off the highway and give neat speed. Later, the car traffic is decidedly less because the company vehicles veered before.

So I reach the said intersection and turn off. This makes cycling gorgeous! It seems to me as if I were at home and ride my bicycle through a village. Every where the mothers play with their kids in front of the house.

In the next bigger town I see left hand in front of a large business a full loaded bicycle. Well, this sight electrifies me, so that I look more closely. A Japanese man stands near.

I think immediately, push my bicycle up there and place it next to his. His name I neither can understand nor keep. But we can talk good in English. He started in Darwin and pedaled up the Kakadu National Park to the east to Cairns. If he needed water, he had stopped the next car that provided him so happy.

He asks me, "Have you ever driven across the United States?"

"Yes, twice. Once from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean in Virginia to Oregon and once from the Pacific in California to the Atlantic Ocean in Florida."

Expression on his face, I realize that I am very risen in his esteem. "I have never cycled in America."

So, this Japanese transportes almost double compared to the luggage located on my bicycle. He is looking forward to the Nullarbor, through which he would whiz in no time with a tail wind. Once I had thought the same, but could not do it. Who knows, maybe he has luck? As he continues cycling with all this luggage he waves to me again. I also remember Fukuo, the Japanese of my Alaska bicycle tour, that the Japanese are all aliens.

And on it it goes always on flat landscape. Fields and meadows lie and I will make neat speed, for I realize that this is no wind, but tailwind.

From Peterborough I follow the signs that brings me to the most valuable points that lie on the Indian Ocean here, attentive. Here I take pictures of the rugged wild raging sea cliffs. What luck that the time of the great sailboats is over. Now people travel fortunately much safer with the big motor vessels.

When I come back from such a lookout on the Great Ocean Road, there is also a bicycle rider with Ortlieb panniers. I speak in German at the same, because these panniers are used almost exclusively by Germans. But it turns out that this young man is waiting for his companion, comes from Holland. She appears shortly afterwards and is called Mary. These two young people met previously on New Zealand someone who leads a cycling newspaper. He asked them to write yet. They came north from Melbourne and wanted to cycle through the watershed, as I did. There, it was fire in the forest and alleged to have blown. Therefore, they tell me they had to travel by bus and train to Melbourne. Now, only the Great Ocean Road is off. Located in Port Campbell on the caravan park, they do not need to sleep in a tent.

Almost together we ride the infinite descent to Port Campbell. They pass me on the big highway sign and tell me where I can find the caravan park. Behind the sign I see a lot of blackberries, pluck and eat it. Then I take in attack the last little climb up to Port Campbell.

The caravan park, which lies in a depression, decided too expensive for me. So I let give me a cheaper campground for the halv. There I spread out my wet tent parts in the sun to dry. The shower and toilet are very simple. But I think of the selfsame that I will have up in the north from Townsville to Broome and am glad that here are still people live and where my tent is secure. But out of the shower flows no hot water, only cold. There is also no sink for washing my clothes or brushing my teeth. Scarce. But I am here for this half price, so I can not complain.

In the near of the electrical box I sit down on the grass and begin to write this diary today. But when the mosquitoes take sight of me and harass me too much, I escape into my little tent. Outside there is no wind. Accordingly, therefore tomorrow so early I will find again a wet tent of my breath.

Cameron, the racing driver

07.02.2013: Port Campbell – Princetown: 20 km

To come all the way up to Lavers Hill, I start already at 6.45 am. Here are all asleep. The sky is drawn. But it is relatively warm. The inside of my tent was only damp, not more. So I roll on an almost untrodden morning road, the Great Ocean Road, to the east. It feels good to ride.

The small mountain is nothing compared to the others that I had to overcome here. From this height I am looking at the sight of the bright blue Indian Ocean in all its glory with very broad waves who are covered with whitecaps and very broad oncoming waves. I am happy. I may look at the other viewpoints of the corroded cliffs.

Until now I have been able to watch "Bay of Islands", "The London Bridge" and "Two Mile Bay." Now follow "hole Arch Gorge" and the "Twelf Apostles". But the last I still can not watch. Because when I again reach the Great Ocean Road from the "hole Arch Gorge", I am called and asked by a man in a yellow vest to leave the road as quickly as possible. In half an hour it must be totally free.

"Yes, but in half an hour I can never come to Princetown. I do not drive by motorcycle!" But he lets me down and asks me to hurry.

When I reach the note to the viewpoint "Twelf Apostles", I see a lot of men in yellow vests, a large truck, several other cars and policemen to which I cycle and ask: "I should leave the road. Why?"

"Yes," says one, "that is important. See you there the race car? This is now driving along on the Great Ocean Road at high speed. Otherwise, you would be run over there."

"But I would take photos for my book I write about my Australian bicycle tour.”

"Yes, you can and hurry. I take care of your bicycle."

In continuous operation I run the long distance to the coast, photograp it and race back. The policeman is very pleased with me and leaves me back my bicycle with the command: "But now you have to stay here until the race car is returned. It will take about half an hour."

That now I do not care. I look around me after the race car. In it sit two drivers one behind the other. The driver, Cameron, smiles at me and is pointing up his thumb. I smile back and show him my thumb up. Then I move to the others who are already with the camera waiting for the racing car that I can capture it by the takeoff on my camera.

I get it when he comes back with a loud engine noise. Over the speeding car a helicopter is flying. Sure there are reporters and journalists on board to document everything on video.

Only when Cameron with his Mazda is here again - I bann him on my lens - I must start with the bicycle to Princetown. The other tourists leave this place in a long queue with their cars.

It is not far to Princetown. The time has progressed. Today to drive right up to Lavers Hill, no, this is too late. In Princetown I find a cheap parking space for my small tent. In my era here at 5.00 pm I want to skype with Gudrun in Spain and record a new video for my friends.
Here is great weather. Soon the clouds crumble fairly and make space for a totally blue sky.

Throw soon all your panniers into the forest!!

08.02.2013: Princetown – Apollo Bay: 59 km

I get up early. The tent is pretty dry from both sides. As yet all are asleep, I leave on my loaded bicycle the caravan park, who is situated on a hill. I can see the next rise. Only from up here I can not go up with full speed there. Unfortunately I have to take care for the cars on the main road, the Great Ocean Road. But then I start. It runs quite well. At 16 ° C, I am working my way up the first pitch. It is close to more, but now I do not want to mention because I can drive it well. Slowly the sun rises.

With these first mountains I imagine that they are the ones that I have to beat today. But nope! This begins only later as the real thing. Previously, it offers me the opportunity to photograph the Indian Ocean on the right hand, as he shows up in a bay.

And then it starts as really as I did not have imagined it. 16 km I climb with my retired gear. Then I met an elderly man on his bicycle which is much less packed, he comes, stops and waits until I park my bicycle safely and meets me.

"Hello," I greet.

"Hello, does you want to go around Australia?"

"Yes. Whom does you have brought with you here?" Behind his handlebar in a round leather pocket a small black dog is sitting and looks at me angry and growls.

"This is Lady, my little dog. It always comes with me." Lady growls even more. He puts his bicycle against a telegraph pole and comes to me to calm down his dog.
"If you wants to cycle around Australia, then throw soon all your panniers into the forest. With this heavy luggage you will never come from Eden to Sydney."

"Why not?"

"I started in Brisbane and cycled to Sydney. From then to Eden there are 500 km fucking hills! You will never made it! Throw away the panniers!"

"But I need it."

"I just have a tarp to wrap me overnight and a long, hot pants with me. The others are eatables. More you do not need."

"No tent, no sleeping bag, no support, no clothes to change, no medicine?"

"No, I do not need it, too. Otherwise, I only have that what I have on my body. And then you needs 7 liters of water every day. Otherwise you can not come along there. You really needs a tent? I sleep under a thick tarp. At clothes I only have two shirts and a jacket with this. And as pants these short shorts. But also the pants I wrapped around my little lady, so it does not freeze here in this cold area." He smiles at his little dog that will not let me out of sight. "I head to Adelaide and will escape from this area to Darwin on the Stuart Highway then it is becoming cold here in the south. See that you are here away in two weeks from South Australia. Then you should already ride on the east coast to the north, where it is warm again."

"I will take heed."

He writes me his name and phone number from the phone, with which we want to stay in touch via text message. This man, who treats and takes his small dog Lady so loving, is lovable.

I sit back on my bicycle, but more than one kilometer I did not make it. Then I have to fit and slide. I had imagined it light. But all negative predictions go here in Australia in fulfillment.

After 1.5 km pushing my bicycle suddenly a heavy caravan drives slowly beside me. A blond, young girl with long plait looks out of the open window, smiles at me and asks: "Does you have problems?"

"Yes, I have."

"May we help you?"

"Yes, you shall."

Then the van will depart left me on the side strips. The aid is in dire need! I quickly take off my panniers, while the two girls, one was sitting in the passenger seat before, create space behind the front seat. I quickly heave into the van my panniers and top of it with my small and lightweight bicycle.

The blonde girl, the driver, asks me: "Can I sit comfortably behind the bicycle? Then you can take the front seat."

"No, thank you. I am sitting here quite well. And if I did not have to sit here, I would also like to sit on the roof of the car, however, from joy to have no longer to move my bicycle up this terrible mountain."

"But then the police would come."

"Oh, she would have brought me down and put me up there with their car up to Lavers Hill. The police is my best friend and helper."

This was new to them. And while I sit back there so jammed as in a tin can, I laugh and entertain with the girls. I am photographed by the co-driver every now and then.

Arrived earlier in Lavers Hill, the two girls told me their names. The blonde is called Pauline and is from France and the dark curly-haired with brown eyes and a thin face is Mona and comes from Sweden. She uses when she wants to go home or on vacation, getting the ferry from Kiel to Goeteborg, Sweden, or back.

"If you wants to take the ferry the next time from Kiel to Sweden, you're first my guest, yes?"

"You're welcome!"

"Hermine, we would like to invite you to a hot chocolate and a glass of cold water. Do you like it? Are you hungry? Can we buy you something to eat?"

"No, certainly I would not like to take it from you."

"Does you ever gets enough to eat with you?"

So I get my blue cool-box out, open it and show them my treasures for today and maybe tomorrow and beyond. In it are still a MilkyWay, a Mars, an avocado, a sweet other bar, an opened bag of assorted nuts and five biscuits. And I also still own a pack Weet-Bix for breakfast in my pannier, I tell them too. Everything is photographed. While I drink the hot chocolate, we exchange our addresses. We want to keep in touch. Then they go under cheerful waving back where they actually should have been driving.

It's still early. And as far as I know, should still be the 40 km descent to Apollo Bay, but mostly downhill. The wife of the economy does not acknowledge it, however, and says that there are still in between so some steep ascents. But as stupid as I am, I do not believe anything, grab all the panniers to my bicycle and leave the café towards Apollo Bay. This is again a sentence with "x": This has been nothing (nix). It came the opposite. But first, quite cheerful and self-confident I roll downhill, the next pitch up in the rain forest with tall eucalyptus trees. Large fern with a trunk height of about 1.5 m is between now and then. The fronds are as large as palm leaves. And the flowers that bloom along the way, are all yellow.

Before I take a downhill attack, I photograph the covered wide waves with whitecaps on the light blue Indian Ocean. So then I get a flat landscape, through which meanders a river. Yes, through this valley leads the Great Ocean Road on flat track. In thought I wish it to me till to Apollo Bay. But surely that is the sticking point in my wishful thinking. Then it's uphill, uphill, uphill. And what should I tell to my shame? I have to push as long as on the slope up to Lavers Hill. But nobody comes who likes to take me here. But, I console myself, today's route is mainly downhill.

At an entrance to a forest I would like to take a short break for lunch. But I become warned on a sign in front of Fox danger. Later I actually reach the top of the mountain and enjoy it, to go then downhill in stages longer than uphill, from which I still often have to push.
Then I see at the left hand the Indian Ocean. Then there also has to be Apollo Bay. An end to this cruelty is in sight. Up here on the mountain trail expresses very strong the wind from the right side against my bicycle. I have to ride in the middle of the left lane, not to be pushed left down into the leafy depths to the sheep.

Finally, I ride my bicycöe on a very rough road, the Great Ocean Road down to the Bay of Apollo Bay. Below greets me warm sunshine. In the straight through and cross mountains with rain forest that was not the case.
I am so tired that I did not make it to the Tourist Office to ask for a very reasonable place to sleep or a cheap tent structure. When I think of the cheap campground in Port Campbell, I am also opposed to have once again such a primitive way of sanitation.

Quite relieved to have arrived, I enter the office and get a beautiful and from the sun protected campground, on which soon my tent stands. Here camps a long-distance cyclist. He lies in his tent. Of him I see only his big belly. This bicycle rider I would not respond, but I photograph his interesting bicycle.

09.02.2013: Rest day in Apollo Bay: 0 km

A new young long-distance bicycle rider has arrived and is here nearby with his tent. He is from Holland and speaks German, fortunately. He came from Tasmania, where he explored beautiful areas on his bicycle. But there, everything was very mountainous and often without paved roads, he tells me. Beside him a car and the tent stand of a German from Bruehl. That man is here traveling on business. Tomorrow he flies back home.

I awake by noise. It is raining outside, how terrible! Hopefully it's the next morning dry. The strong wind is asleep. The surf roars.

10.02.2013: Apollo Bay – Lorne: 45 km

I wake up again at night. Outside there is the radiant Southern Cross above me. All the grass is dry, only my tent from the outside. Hopefully it will be still until sunrise. It occurs to me that I have to keep warm, I must wear the same underwear at night like in Alaska. A fleece jacket I own, as a Gortex jacket. I have no special sailor underwear including a fleece and Gore-Tex pants. I will look in Geelong afterwards in the second-hand shop. Then the freeze is over. This is the only solution. But that means again more weight.

When I wake up the next time it's raining outside. Well, those are not great prospects. And I have no rain pants.

In the morning the sky is still cloudy. But there is no wind which dries the rain all off my tent and the lawn. Very early my loaded bicycle is ready for departure at the camp table. I see the Dutch coming out of his tent. He would like to see my bicycle and is impressed. Now also Gunther, the motorist, appears out of his tent. As he lingers an extra night here, but after going home, I ask him: "Can you sell me your sleeping bag or do you needs it here? My is not warm enough."

"Yes, I will hand it over to you tomorrow on the Great Ocean Road when I see you with my car on my way to Melbourne. Write me a text message so I know where you are."

With Adrian, the Dutchman, I date in Apollo Bay at the shop for water sports. He also appears. But the business is not open. So since I can not buy for me here thermal underwear, so I have saved money.

Adrian tells a lot about his life and his travels. Since he is a professional gardener, he can only still travel in January. Therefore, only the southern states offer it, where it is then nice and warm. He starts to Lavers Hill. My sympathy is with him.

The route towards Lorne I like best of all day trips so far here in Australia. Finally, the Great Ocean Road very loften performs very closely along the Indian Ocean. I often take photographs. The weather is nice and warm. Right hand I see the oncoming waves with whitecaps on the light blue Indian Ocean and at left hand of the Great Ocean Road the rising forest slope. All in all, a wonderful day.

Today the Australian bicycle racing athletes are in a large contingent on the road, come to meet and greet me cheerfully. After 48 km I will find after a left hand bend down in a large bay of the site Lorne. I did not think that this is such a great town. The tourist information office sends me to the caravan park which is behind the curve. There, I set up my tent and would like to send the mails home. But the post office is already closed.

11.02.2013: Lorne – Torquay: 47 km

The first I leave at 7.00 am the great caravan park and run to the east. About me fly screaming in large flocks the white cockatoos with their yellow bonnets. Hopefully the clouds willl disappear. I do not like rain.

It feels good to ride. Very often the Indian Ocean is in sight. The sun peeps out between slowly but carefully. The surf roars. The waves hit the beach.

The ups and downs of the height profile is something similar to yesterday's. For me all the time a cycle lane is available, which is also very good cleaned of stones. Every now and then there are rock debris, who fall down on the night of the height.

Uphill, downhill, up and down it goes with me further east. Suddenly, I am standing in front of the historic monument of the Great Ocean Road. Like a wooden gate made of medium thick tree trunks, emblazons across the top in the middle of the name "GREAT OCEAN ROAD". On the one side there is a sculpture of two workers who, shouldered the pickaxe, are hand each other a drinking container. This road was built by Australian soldiers, who again were returning home from the war to give them work. On a photo a lot of tents is to be seen next to each other. In it they slept like the first German emigrants.

I cycle and take specific photographs. Yesterday I photographed often enough the surf. Therefore, I leave it at that today. A note on the right hand side a staircase leads down to the beach. Down there I can look at the bay, where three sailboats drowned in beach and all the passangers died. But I do not go down after the long staircase and then up again. I need my strength for the challenging Great Ocean Road. The sun reflects in the ocean. Before Torquay I cycle to my great joy for several kilometers on flat ground before the Great Ocean Road still rears several times on the last little part.

3 km I will keep on pedaling until the tourist information office. To increase the city I keep a lookout. It must be here somewhere. I see before me a man, at some distance, beckoning me. I wonder. Hans, my relative from Melbourne, it can not be. He does not know that I arrive here today. For me, it makes "click". This is Guenther of the caravan park in Apollo Bay, who promised me his light down sleeping bag and assured me to give it to me on the track somewhere to Torquay, depending on where he overtakes me.

Yes, indeed it is he who smiles and waves at me . He is surprised that I needed four hours for the 44 km today . Yes, I tell him that came from the many mountain climbs. He is, I think, driven the Princess Highway and has been waiting for me here, because after that the caravan park is right, to which I would like.

Beaming, he hands me his used, good sleeping bag and gives it to me, because I really need it . He picks for me a delicious red apple. We even entertaine for a while . He is based in Brühl on the Rhine River and works at a company that sends him every now and then abroad. Today he flies back to Germany .

My next order of business is the exploration of the post office for sending the thick trousers and the pink jacket, I do no need longer.

So I just walk into a located washing salon and ask one of the entertaining men, who are standing there. One who looks very similar to my cycling friend Bob from London, enters smiling at me, takes me out and shows me exactly which way I have to take to turn right to go to Woolworths and there also is located the post. And the caravan park is something here on this road down the hill.
I ask him: "Are your ancestors from England?"

"Yes and we are all here in Australia very well. None of the whole family moved back to England. Here all people are open, friendly and helpful," he tells me.

"I can fully confirm." So I say goodbye to him, but first I go to the caravan park. There, however, the young woman asks me for $ 34, which I absolutely do not want to pay. That's why I am going out again.

But where I am supposed to sleep? Oh, the tourist information is still able to convey a property, I think to myself. So I push my bicycle through the loose gravel and look at the houses on the right lane. The name backpacker catches the eye. Nothing like immediately there. The owner stands in the garden and solds me a bed for the night in a 12-bed room for $ 28. In this way I save $ 6.

When she shows me the room, there lie on a bed next to my bed all kinds of things. "They belong to a young man," she says.

"What? I sleep with a strange man in the same room?"

"You do not need to have fear. He hurts nobody. He helps out here."

Soon my panniers are adjacent to one of the beds. I take my bicycle, ride into the center of Woolworths and buy food. There I get the address to a photo store that I visit soon. I feel that it is very important to beam on a stick some of my photos, and then to send them to my family and facebook. The manager of the company Codak helps me to do so. So, now I can finally make my family and friends happy.

As I enter the big backpacker room to fetch my little computer for writing, there are two young men - probably high school graduates – who also come in and occupy a bed. So tonight I sleep with three men in the same room. One of them is Martin and comes from near Copenhagen in Denmark. He speaks very good German. He has been here since January and he wants to work at the Great Barrier Reef for a year. He is often in Germany and always feels as well.

Now I am tired.

12.02.2013: Torquay – Queenscliff: 55 km

As soon I never was finished from waking up to the exit.

I resolve to buy me in Geelong a rain pants. Here are none. On the Surf Coast Highway, which runs past right at the Backpacker Hotel, I cycle on the specially dedicated cyclists bike lane next to the liquid rolling rush straight to Geelong. Yesterday I asked my photographer: "Is this a very mountainous highway?"

"No," he said, "only a single mountain in between to Geelong."

Yes, yes, these drivers! They can not feel many climbs at all because they listen to music or are preoccupied with thoughts of the reason for their day tour.

Anyway - it drives itself just fine. Had been decided by Quorn from poorer ride quality, but only because of the car, truck and road train drivers. This is something I am already used to it and totally hardened. I suppose actually no longer true.

When I arrive in Geelong, I am watching a lot to find the right intersection in the city where the Mountaineer shop is located. By mistake here I go a little further and I am just passing by on a bicycle shop. Well, I think to myself. To there I will still drive. They shall take an exactly look at my bicycle.

At the next intersection I stop because it looks different than on my map. Road construction workers are just in their orange vest there. I talk to them, show them my map and the place where I want to go. They watch it carefully and show me how I can get there from here. I thank them, turn around and go first to the service station here to comfort me something with a hot chocolate. Today little dizzy is me in the head. The weather changed a bit.

As I push my bicycle between parked cars through here, I am asked by a smiling lady: "Where are you going with the many panniers?"

Well, also to her I tell my desire to circumnavigate Australia by bicycle. Her eyes are getting bigger. Then she starts to talk about herselv: "1962 I moved with my husband and my children from Ireland to Hobart in Tasmania. Four years ago, my husband had separated from me. I had cancer. Now I live here in Geelong near my daughter. Without medical help, but only by drinking of goat's milk I am healed from my neck gland cancer. The stress with my husband is gone.” She makes a very happy impression. “My name is Vera. Can you write me back and again?"

"Yes, I will gladly do." In this way, not only I, but also she has found a new girlfriend. She writes me her address and I gave her my.

After we parted, I push my bicycle to the nearby standing bicycle shop that just opened. I see the young man. He is thrilled by my bicycle! Such a touring bicycle as this he never has seen. But since it is made of steel, it can survive these hardships. He asks: "What problems did you mean?"

"Do you have rain pants here in your bicycle shop?"

"No, that is never used here in the summer. Drive to the Mountaineer shop." I show him on my map to the point where it should be.

"Yes, there it is."

"Can you see once my bicycle? I am not satisfied, although it has already smoothly rolled so many great trips."

First I take off all my panniers. Then he takes my little bicycle in the air, laughs and says: "So easy!" Then he stretched it into his mounting frame. First, he assembled around on my bicycle and the new fender, including the corresponding brake. Nothing sits as it should have been. He is all non-threaded and adjusting the rear wheel, moves in two different spokes and screwed to the apron rods around until it is properly seated all. Then the brake is properly adjusted. Then he goes to the circuit. I complain that I can not go back at all with my two lightest sprockets, since already the second last rattles and I have to switch back quickly. He screws here and there, oils here and there, tried by rotation of the pedals and is shifting the gears through everything and gets everything under control, that I can now go with these two lightest gears. He smiles as he hears how happy he has made me. Then he goes to my handlebar, bends the brake croissant right to the front and screwed them also firmly properly. Also, my handlebar is not fixed properly. He screwed tight and neat. And the holder for my Ortlieb handlebar bag has been slowly but surely bent far down, that between the fender and this only are 2 cm air. He is so long engaged, to get the support of my handlebar bag, the long screws have been bent slightly in the handle and get them through thick wrapping the bar in the correct horizontal position. I am excited! And he, because I go to him with small auxiliary handles at hand. He does not know. I tell him: "I grew up between five brothers and I learned a lot from them."

Then he grins. He also pumps me neatly much air in the tires, so my Conti tires should only run on the narrow, uppermost trace. I am blown away! Finally my bicycle is roadworthy again. Now I can confidently continue my heavy bicycle tour with a clear conscience and knowledge.

The young man's name is Carrick. His mother is half German and half Russian. He speaks some German. But we talk only in English. And when I ask him what I should pay him for all his time and effort, he says: "Oh, just give me $ 25" pocket money, I offer him, he refuses and smiles kindly at me. Yes, there is such a thing in Australia! From the courtesy and helpfulness of the people here on this giant island, I am constantly surprised and thrilled! With full loaded bicycle I drive under Carrick's waving in the direction he shows me where the Mountaineer shop should be.

I find that even after several kilometers. Geelong is a fairly large city. In the shop there they have rain trousers in Goretex or normal. The Gore-Tex pants costs nearly $ 200. This is an exorbitant price for me. And the other, non-breathing rain pants, the half. But anyway, since I sweat when it rains as a result of my athletic movements, pants are therefore also from the inside wet, because prevents the evaporation of the rain outside, I decide not to buy rain pants.

But then I remember my nightly freezing and ask for a budget, but warm sleeping bag for from 4 ° C cold. He shows me two of them. Both look the same, only the one is reduced by $ 150. This is of course only of interest to me. It will keep me warm up to this cold stage. I buy it, drive straight to the post office and send souvenirs, already used bicycle maps and the light summer sleeping bag home. Three months it has time to go home by sea.

Now with a very good feeling and less luggage on the bicycle, ameliorate me in the right road, the Bellarine Highway, and I role in the cycle lane to the east signposted Queenscliff. Here I want to build up my tent at the caravan park. If anyone should imagine that this highway - just like the other ridden - was said to be flat, then I have to teach all a lesson. It's now up everywhere just uphill and down. Today it was made me even as on the Alaska Highway: After some time, I am so jaded that it no longer takes me to the next mountain I ever see when I have just climbed back a nervous or emotionally. The feeling I suggested from tete. Better that way for me.

But since it is warm and the sun is shining, I roll also this mountainous route and reach Queenscliff early in the afternoon. Upon arrival at the caravan park - behind it lies the Bass Strait, the sea - I am treated like a queen, because I mention there at the front desk that I am straight with my 75 years on the road with my loaded bicycle, to cycle around their big, huge Australia. A couple of friends of the owner can be photographed with me - like the owner -. They wish to buy my book when it is completed in English. And the owner personally takes me to a cabin where I may sleep. She also ordered the book and writes me as girlfriend her email address on, so I can her notify. Of so much kindness today I am blown away.

Over the Mount Martha

13.02.2013: Queenscliff – Hastings: 63 km

In my new sleeping bag, actually a winter sleeping bag, I do not feel cold. So cuddly soft and warm I did not sleep long, long time. At 7.00 clock I leave happy and grateful this regal caravan park, where I was quartered and slept royal. My path leads me in a straight line down to the harbor. The first ferry I have not reached this morning due to my many photos. Is no matter. Soon I see the 7.00 am ferry coming from a distance. The sun is shining from a clear blue sky. The short waves are hitting the shore. There is wind force 6. It really is no matter. I do not want to go with a small sailing ship, yes.

As the first passenger, I can use my bicycle on the big ferry and park on the left side. Soon, I climb to the upper deck. There I sit with another young woman alone in front on the bow. The warm wind blows in my face. My yellow fleece jacket, which I have done healing the zipper again, is warming up. And through my pink blouse the wind can not get through. It is uniquely beautiful here. The crossing takes 45 minutes to Sorrento on the Mornington Peninsula. As the last passenger I push my bicycle from the big ferry. I ask a young man to show me the right road to Mornington. Indeed, it is seen here in two different directions. He shows with his hand onto the left and assured me: "This road goes on completely flat plane." He runs well every now and then with the bicycle: "I counsel, you need to sign up with your mobile phone at the hostel in Cowes."

"My money balance is depleted at the moment. I need a phone shop from Telstra to reload money on it."

He explaines it to me: "Also, there are other shops to buy food." It fits perfectly, because my Weet-Bix and my bunsbread rolls are eaten. I need supplies.

That all young men are thrilled of me with my loaded bicycle, I experienced again and again as now. Stephen askes me a lot about my tour. When I tell him that I think about writing a book, he wrote his email address on a paper. I can notify him immediately the same if it is present for sale.

So I roll off. In fact near the coast I cycle on flat level ahead. Many cyclists race also here along at great speed and greet me with a smile.

And when I find the shopping mile, I push it along to the Telstra shop and let me beam $ 30 to my phone.

Finally I can make calls again. In the next shop I buy food. Thus the panniers are heavier. But what must be, it must be level. Eating in restaurants I can not for financial reasons. My next wish is an internet cafe.

So, now the day may come. My route continues towards Mornington. Then the first turn comes for the route to Hastings. This is the road that leads to the other side along coast. To avoid the short and prolonged mountains - I imagine it - I drive the route to Mornington further north and land on the wide side stripes of the M 11. Makes cycling well. Then the road turns left to Mornington.
But what's coming, that's not exactly to my taste. Now it goes up the Mount Martha. That's what I did not want, but can not turn back. I am already too far in the north. So I turn off the feeling and cycle automatically forward. It is high and getting higher. My bicycle runs well and my legs create the challenge.

When I arrive Mornington - downhill - I am looking for the turn-off to Tyabb. I appear it after some time. But now what will happen to me, is the hardness. An infinite builds up steep mountain in front of me. The road C782 shows no shoulder, not even a narrow edge strip. Boldly I switch to a low gear, then getting easier and easier and easier. But this mountain is not to conquer by me. Approximately the last 100 meters I have to push demoralizes in addition to the strong rush. But this mountain is coming to an end. The next piece, and all the other mountains I can do well and get the caravan park of Hastings in the early afternoon.

Soon my tent is standing in the hot sun. And I am now set for colder weather or at least colder nights with my wonderfully warm sleeping bag. But again, such a warmth or heat?

14.02.2013: Hastings – Newhaven: 45 km

In the night I wake up. Lightning flashes in my tent. Hopefully there is no storm. This line of thought will not let me sleep. If my laundry is already dry? I go out. Yes, it is. I do it into my little lowrider panniers. Then I get the appetite for bread with lots of butter and garlic reports.

At 4:00 am my alarm clock shall wake me up. But it does not. I must have come in the night against the small button. But I wake up that way. Without glasses, it looks as if it is 4.20 clock am. Oh, I think indeed I can slow start packing up my stuff. After some time, everything is there. It grumbles. Hopefully no thunderstorm!

When everything is mounted on my bicycle, I put it up against a house wall, visit again and see the plumbing on my watch. What? It is an hour earlier than I thought?
Outside, it's still totally obscure. The sky is drawn. What should I do now? I have already put my key for the large recreational room into the mailbox of the office. So I have no other choice than - with yellow fleece jacket today in light summer wardrobe - to sit on a chair outside. It blows a chill wind, whistling through my thin bike shorts. So I build up my large plastic bag with the wind blouse and wind vest and put it over my legs. Nevertheless, I continue to feel cold.

Slowly the sky is clearing. As in the dark wild animals are running and jumping over the road, I can not drive off in the dark, yes. Now, the first trucks thunder along on the far thoroughfare. If these drive, no more wild animals come to the road, I realize objectively, get up, attach the large plastic bag back on the rack, put on the lights and push slowly my bicycle to the thoroughfare. Only at the mouth I thrash slowly. I am freezing due to lack of sleep and hope to be warm again by cycling. The yellow fleece jacket keeps me warm, but not the thin bike shorts. It must just go like this.

It takes quite a while before I reach on the harbor in Stoney Point. A smiling employee of the Maritime Administration, who is standing in his house, is interested about my bicycle tour and talks with me about it.

It is still more than an hour before the ferry comes here and will go. The sun comes slowly with its golden rays over the cloud edge. A great sight!

In the café-restaurant I may buy my tickets for me and the bicycle. Now I see a relatively small air-cushion boat control this port.

"This is the ferry," says the worthy love man and hands me a very strong expander if one should break from my two and even a small plastic box with plaster. I thank him. He is obviously happy to have made me happy.

Now still appears a man of an official car and asks me: "Where are you from?"

"From Germany."

"Me too," he says brightly. "I emigrated to Australia in 1960 and I am very happy here."

Then it's time that I push my bicycle to the applied small boat. That swims rather deep alongside the quay. After I removed my many panniers, three young men of the crew pick it down the steps including my panniers and put everything back on the boat. At the onset of sunshine it takes off and runs first to French Island, where all passangers till two women and me go from board. The boat continues its journey to Philip Island where I go off - but only under the assistance of the crew.

I am cold, although my little thermometer shows me 23 ° C. I slept too less and consequently I have no momentum. But it will hopefully come.

This port city is Cowes and is the largest town on the island. From the port, I put my heavy bicycle up the hill into town. According to my map Newhaven the little village is where the hostel is, where I signed up by phone yesterday for one night.

The road runs mostly downhill, not getting what was promised on the phone. That was certainly a driver who never took true the hills. The side stripe is full of small stones. But rather take it slow than come between the cars of the rush hour.

The sun is shining. There is hardly anything new for photographing here, only road information signs.

Before a chocolate factory I stop and walk into it. I need spiritual refreshment. Inside my eyes stick back to English Cream Tea to my great joy. I order it for me. That it is not as good as in England, I do not care. The scones taste definitely just as good. The English tea tastes delicious and builds me up. And the scones caress my heart. I will be a person again.

I slowly roll further, seeking my place in Newhaven and the hostel that I also find after some questions.

When registering, I hear that visiting the penguin parade does not cost $ 15. The price is not together with the minibus transfers. It again costs there $ 30. This is not my budget. This joy I shall forget. And because a bed is cheap in a 12-bed room, I book myself in it.

The spagetti in tomato sauce out of a can do not taste and lie heavy on my stomach. But it is full. So I am tired. I can not buy this food again. In addition, it has become clear to me that I no longer purchases in the future the next morning meal for two days. I will make it like the time on the TransAmerica tour in the USA where we always shopped the food for the evening, morning and during the day just before the finish. In this way, my panniers are facilitated.

Thus writing this my eyes close constantly.

15.02.2013: Newhaven – Foster: 109 km

In the morning I carry very quietly my panniers out of the bedroom and place it next to the elevator. First I eat in the kitchen. With the lift I put all my panniers down to the floor. When I am going to put them onto my bicycle, from somewhere a cockroach is running to me. But yet it should not crawl into one of my panniers! Them I push with one foot always a little further away from it. It bothers tremendously my unpacking. But finally I made it and can push the bicycle forward to the unoccupied desk and past out.

The sun is already shining. My thermometer shows 22 ° C. So it can go! Cheerfully I cycle towards the bridge, after which I have later to turn east. It takes a long time. A long working site I must pass by and with the cars on gravel. But sometimes to the end and the large roundabout on to the East is also visible.

It feels good to ride. The slopes are moderate. I come down to the coast where I can ride along. The morning sun is shining towards me. In Wonthaggi I turn left and drive on to Inverloch. There is currently a cemetery gardener working near the road. And since I am not quite clear, I think today after Foster - south or north - I climb off and ask him about it.

He looks at my map and tells me: "Do not cross over Leongatha. This is too much of a detour. Turn it already half way on to Koonwarra and from there on the main road coming from Leongatha, to the right. The four kilometers go back to the right direction Meeniyan and Fish Creek. In this way you avoid the very high mountain between Meeiyan and Foster. And this route leads along over Fish Creek on a fairly flat landscape."

That sounds good. I thank him and ask, "Where are your ancestors from?"

"150 years ago from England, Scotland and Ireland. My name is John."

We shake hands. Then I cycle on. It's 10 am and the temperature roses to 30 ° C.

Happy, to explain this new and better route, I drive along the B460. Suddenly at the left it is a dead echidnas. I photograph it. A beautiful animal! Too bad that he had to die. Then lie at a greater distance two wombats on the street. Unfortunately, even dead.

Now I reach the junction between Leongatha and Foster, arrange me a traffic awareness and drive south, hoping to turn right. Yes, I think in a bend, do not watch further up the street number and am glad now soon to reach Fish Creek, from where it then goes only to Foster.

The dead wombats previously on the road are not everything that takes me mentally: In a departure I see on the white dashed line in the middle of the road a blue bird that looks like our kingfisher. He was stuck by a car on his rump and can not leave. He stands on his two feet, additionally supported on both sides by his blue wings as props on the road, holding his head fully in the height and stands there with open beak on the road and riveted. It never would be able to live without his backside. Terrible, so an accident of a little bird that has done nothing to anybody. This image will never get out of my head. Some time later is ripping a long lament the silence.

At a new sign I notice that I am on the road to Inverloch. But that can not tackle it. Why that? Right next to me is a Hall of Middle Tarwin. And then everything is clear to me: I should not have take the first turn to the right, but only the second. How should I go now to Foster? All the way back? I do not really want to, but do not back down, according to Inverloch. As I see on my map that here a narrow side road leads to Middle Tarwin to my otherwise correct street. Fortunately I think soon and look forward. Unfortunately, I become slowe down by the strong south wind that aroses at noon.

The road actually goes quite well and approximately 10 km to reach the intersection of Fish Creek. Now the wind was suppressed. I try to bend me as much as possible over my racing handlebar to offer him not so much attack. But that do my panniers enough.

But eventually after a lot of ups and downs to reach Fish Creek, I stop at the roadhouse and drink there a double cup of hot, sweet coffee with milk. Oh, that is good! I buy there also grapes and eat them.

As I stand outside in the Gippsland Highway and begin to move my bicycle up the mountain, two women arrive on their loaded bicycles. While one of them moves to the square left, I talk to the other in English. Somehow for me it was as if they are German and ask: "Where are you from?"
"From Berlin."

That is great! Finally, I can talk in German . When they hear that I want to go to Foster, they decide themselves to lead me to the embankment which is disused and trimmed there for cyclists and walkers. I have heard of this bicycle route at the roadhouse by Sue. But I could not believe this road. But of these two women, Hilde and Barbara, I will know better. They have come this far and they also want to continue it to Foster, because I am heading that way. In the morning their way leads to south and my further east.

I entrust myself to them and roll behind them. This way is a winner for bicyclists like me! The fact is, that the storm can not reach me here, because the forest at both sides. The surface is clean and flat as concrete. But this is just totally tight rolled, white sand.

Since I never cycle on gravel, I get off at road crossings as they roll with their mountain bike tires over it. In this way I stay something back. The last time before Foster I ask Hilde, who is waiting for me, whether she can photograph me via video with my camera. Yes, she does. Finally I have a video of me again.

After about 13 km we reach Foster and drive all three to the caravan park where we share a parking space for rent of $ 40 for us. Soon stands the tent of the two women. For me it takes longer. These two, Barbara and Hilde, were first on New Zealand and had been watching the area by bicycle. Now they want to get to know Australia. They have time till until November. They want to go from here to the Great Ocean Road and later on the Stuart Highway north to Darwin and from there, they hope, also on to Perth. Who knows, maybe we'll meet there together and can pass this difficult course?

I am hungry and eat. It has become cold. I have put my yellow fleece jacket on. What luck, I can slip in my nice warm sleeping bag and sleep after dinner. Crickets are chirping outside.

16.02.2013: Foster – Yarram: 54 km

The night is unusually hot: 20° C. I lay naked on my pad. The good, warm sleeping bag is like a long roll at my back. I can not sleep well. I wake up at 4:00 am, back on, touch my heart and deside just to start. Then I remove my tent inside and stuff everything into the appropriate panniers. The sanitary facilities also receive visits from me. With my loaded bicycle I want to start. A look back to the big, dark tent of the two Berlin women, then I slowly push my bicycle from the caravan park. The black and white bird, the Australian magpie, logs timid. Would it like to say good bye to me?

The sky lightens just at 6.15 am, as I look for the right direction to Yarram. But it brightens up pretty quickly. No wind. But I need my fleece jacket for the slopes, so that the wind will not whistles through "joints and marrow".

It feels good to ride. The route leads through a rightmost panel landscape, while the left is forest. Soon it seems to the left that it looks like there were standing "Scottish mountains" without trees, round and only covered with grass. Today on Saturday the traffic is limited. The road condition is good initially, later scary bad.

In front of Welshpool left hand side of the road an injured wombat is sitting and looks at me for help with his brown globular eyes. I can not help him, but will give to the next man the information about him, so that he calls the Wildlife Aid center to pick him up and maintain let healthy again.

And another route continues an echidnas left on the grass strips around and is looking for food. I of course immediately put my bicycle off to photograph him. He remembers running into the deeper grass, sticks his head in there, only to see is his handsome gold-black-white hedgehog dress. I hope he stays alive. This car traffic on the road, I see no chance of survival for him. But I would not take him high to put him on the other side in the ditch. That would have been the same. And here where he is, is a bush hedge. My hands are tied. I am already sorry.

Today it flutes only now and then an Australian magpie a greeting for me. The road is very, very defective. Vast has holes on it. I would not like driving a car