My Odyssey Part I

So, in my twenty seventh year, I decided to do a long distance cycling trip for a few weeks...Alone. Something I had been dreaming of doing for a long time. My journal of that time records a similar recollection of my childhood trips up the gorge road...

...as we ascended the hills, the car warmed by the sun, I felt safe to daydream out the windows at the creeks, paddocks and towering, gnarled gums.
    Occasionally we would pass a cyclist inching his way up an incline. And I was always impressed by their determination and perseverance.

And I wanted to do it independently. Carrying all the gear I needed to be self reliant on a pack rack, including tent, food, cooking gear and clothing. So, in late December of 2000, I arrived at Adelaide train station with  the same bike I used to ride around the suburbs of Melbourne and I set out from there, taking that same route of my childhood imaginings.   I followed the narrow slither of road into the Adelaide hills and beyond. Relishing the sense of freedom and challenge. My Journal of the trip records my first brush with any real risk. As I headed into the Adelaide hills,  I noticed a sign I had seen many times through out my childhood, yet never paid any attention to. Its said, "Caution - Road subject to rock falls."

Looking back, I can see the same naivety in myself  that Krakauer saw in McCandless.  I was utterly under prepared.Physically, I was probably fit enough to ride 80 or 100 Kms a day but I failed to appreciate the dangers of narrow roads, and  large trucks. I failed to be prepared for serious mechanical break down and contingencies.  I planned no itinerary, and booked no accomodation, or camping sites. I did a bit of research, but really just made most of it up as I went along. I guess this is not unusual for anyone who sets out on lone adventures.

I spent Christmas with my Grandmother and extended family, then set out again, on boxing day, for Gawler. A relativley short ride of about 50 kms. From there, I caught the train into Adelaide, and then out again, going as far as I could on the suburban rail system out of the city to Port Noarlunga. And it was from here that the real journey began. I intended to ride down the coast of the Fleurieu Peninsula, catch the ferry from Cape Jervis to Kangaroo Island and spend a week or so cycling around the island.

On the other hand, I also appreciate that  my adventure was really pretty tame and conservative compared to McCandless's odyssey. I am by nature conservative and cautious and there was really little real risk to my life apart from the possibility of being clipped by a truck, or a mechanical failure on a steep descent of which there were a few. There were a couple of moments,when I was brought face to face with my lack of preparation. On the first day of my departure from the Barossa Valley I got half way down the Fleurieu Peninsula, only to realise that it was getting dark, and I had no where to stay. I reached a small caravan park in the tiny hamlet of Normanville just on night fall, and as I knocked on the door of the office, it occurred to me for the first time that there might not be any camping sites available.