Mount Gambier to Nelson on the Highway to Hell

What looked on paper like being a really nice ride turned out to be pretty ordinary. We only had 40 kilometres to ride. Collis had never been to Nelson before and thought, in keeping with the coastal theme of our trip, this seemed to be a good way to go. It would get us off the busy Princes Highway between Mount Gambier and Portland and bring us near the coast where the Glenelg River empties into a large bay at Nelson, which is a sleepy little settlement with a pub  but no supermarket.

We had a leisurely start to the day. Neil had breakfast in camp and then set off towards Nelson with some geocaching in mind. Jim, Jacquei and Jen set off into town before Di and I, looking for somewhere to have breakfast. Di and I were happy to go back to where we'd had afternoon tea and dinner yesterday. Now here's a photo for the grandchildren: Di waiting for her "Borlotti Beans on Toast" to arrive ...

Nana waits for Breakfast

Our intention afterwards was to go look at some sinkhole which is a major tourist attraction. After Di complained about me finding a short hill of 14% to ride up we made a half-hearted attempt to find it and then just decided just to  head out of town.

Initially things seemed quite good on the Highway to Hell. There was some nice rural scenery to look at ...

Canola field near Mount Gambier

... but we soon realised that this was no quiet country road; instead we found ourselves on a very busy truck route, with many log trucks in particular.

Di had been very keen for me to take lots of photos and that had been my intention, but there wasn't a lot to look at and the number of trucks rushing close by was downright scary. Really, the narrowness of the road and lack of a paved shoulder once one leaves the area near Mount Gambier makes it unsuitable for cycling with such heavy truck traffic roaring by in both directions. Before things got really fraught, Di got me to go across the road so she could take my picture in front of Australia's national floral emblem ...

No Blood On The Wattle this time ...

We soon found ourselves regularly diving for cover when we heard anything big coming from behind. Regularly we'd also get a pretty clear visual signal from the other direction that it was a good idea to get off the pavement when oncoming trucks took themselves partway off the road to make more room for trucks coming up behind us. It became a regular strategy to get onto the shoulder whenever we found ourselves riding up a rise to maximise our chances of staying alive. In fact, for much of the second half of the ride we probably spent at least as much time off the pavement as on it. The unpaved shoulder has been worn smooth to a degree by trucks getting on to it so regularly.

We saw lots of dead and badly mutilated kangaroo - too gross to take any photographs. When we passed one caved in carcass Di said that if that were her, at least someone would pick her up off the side of the road. We also passed a beautiful parrot which, much like the raven we passed on the way to Laura, this bird was not badly mangled and looked like it must have been dealt a glancing but fatal blow ...

Musk Lorikeet

A bit further on I spotted a registration plate lying on the side of the road and wondered if it was all that was left after some poor guy was hit by a log truck ...

Is this your rego plate?

... or perhaps some subtle message from the skies about the nature of the trucks - and their drivers - flashing past. Very few of the truckies seemed to have any regard for us, viewing us more as mere nuisances. Quite a few times we got a horn blast from some irritated driver as he was going past. Only once in the 37 or so kilometres between leaving the town boundaries of Mount Gawler and entering Nelson did we have a truck driver blow his horn to give warning when some distance behind.

Just a few kilometres before Nelson we crossed the border into Victoria ...

Western Australia, South Australia and now Victoria

... and just before arriving in Nelson itself one crosses the Glenelg River. It looks like people have build shacks on stilts as holiday homes ...

Glenelg River at Nelson

We are ensconced in a quiet caravan park about a kilometre out of town. The sun has been out most of the afternoon but is currently hiding behind a cloud. It hasn't rained all day and Aeolus has mercifully given us the afternoon off. There are a few gorgeous, inquisitive Red Wattle Birds fluttering about camp, staying mobile or, when still, keeping just far enough away for me to not get a good photo or video of them. But that's okay. Their presence is enough of a joy without having to capture their images.

At the moment things are nice and peaceful. Unfortunately our foray out on to the roads tomorrow will be pretty much like today's excursion - except 70 kilometres of mayhem rather than the 37 or so we had today. We wondered if heading out early might save us some strife but discovered that the trucks run 24/7: it's all about the need to feed the mill. According to the folk in the local information centre, the truck drivers are on a schedule of three runs per day and that's why they don't slow down. So, if you don't hear from me tomorrow or the next day, assume the worst. That's if for now.