A TALE OF THE MUNDA BIDDI TRAIL
(‘The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth So Help Me God’)
MUNDARING – THE BEGINNING
If
you want to stay out of town then stay at the youth hostel, it is where I stayed,
but if I had known it was 7.5km out of town I would have looked for
alternatives. It was certainly ‘out there’ which was great, surrounded by bushland, except that I had wanted to start the trail from
the beginning, at Mundaring town itself. The youth hostel is on the trail so for those
who want a head start it is a perfect way to start. I had not arrived there
until nightfall so I was not aware that it was on the trail. I camped it and….
DAY 1 - WEDNESDAY 13TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
MUNDARING to CARINYAH
I
was up and away with the first sign of light, the overnight temperature dropped
to make one feel they that one was sleeping in a cool room, it wasn’t that my
body was cold, I was well rugged up but my feet weren’t and that alone was
enough to have a feeling of a chill creeping through ones bones leaving one
only on the verge of sleep. It wasn’t
long before I decided that I would buy another pair of warm socks in the
morning and with the purchase of those socks led to the losing of my gloves.
So there I was
on my way, on a trail that unbeknown to me was the wrong one. I was carried
away with the environment, pedaling away through bush land, looking for small
directional signs that would keep me on track, not seeing any, I should have
known, my first mistake. Enveloped in euphoria, my second mistake I did not
look at the map, continued to pedal away happily, while in my mind the thought
’…this is great…’, until, of course, I stopped to look at the map 7.5km down
the track and then thoughts went to ‘So where am I…’, I could not pinpoint my
position on the map and knew I would have to back track. Hmmm, there was no
doubt that I was on the wrong track, the indicators were all there, I should
have bloody known. BUGGER!!!
No
big deal, I was fresh, it was an adventure after all in a bush land environment
new to me outside of the desert I work and live within. It was no big deal of
course until I got onto the correct trail and found myself making a similar
mistake further on.
The Munda Biddi
Trail:
The
first day on the trail was a mixed bag, long drawn out uphill sections (or so
it felt), sections that were rocky, others sandy or soft with a pea gravel bed
that instantly slowed one down as the bike sank and the cranks had to be pedaled
with extra force to keep one upright and moving, or sometimes instantly (so it
seemed) to stop dead and topple over I would go as one with the bike and
sometimes, if quick enough able to unclip my shoes and make a running escape
away from my falling ‘machine’. I get
ahead of myself in the telling. Time to back-up…
It
was now mid morning before I started the actual trail and I now had firm sight
of the directional markers. I had finally begun. By late morning it again
became evident that I had pedaled my way into the wrong direction, I missed a
turn, a case of ‘head down and bum up’, I realized this again, as coincidences
go 7.5km down the track and again I would have 7.5km to backpedal.
The
day was not about to get any easier for ahead of me there were a number of
steep uphill climbs. Never have I pushed a bike, or thought I ever would,
cyclists after all don’t walk they pedal, but I had covered a lot of extra kilometres and had a bike weighed down with gear. So there
I found myself having to, a number of times, hop off the saddle and push,
swearing and cursing, to hop back on to pedal to another uphill climb, off
again, walking, cursing, swearing, muscles straining with the effort. It was to
be a scenario that was to be repetitiously repeated throughout the day.
Now I was a
little weary, I was at the halfway mark for the day, my thoughts of ‘…this is
great…’ were now ‘…will I, can I make it…’ to the destination I planned. Thank
god for the scenery that kept my thoughts occupied and away from the way I was
feeling, ready to pack it in, with legs aching, feeling as if they had nothing
left. More thoughts, questions, accompanied the physical fatigue, ‘why would
anyone want to punish themselves…of course for the challenge…an adventure ‘keep
fit’ holiday after all…if anything it will make a story…’ Yes I was talking to
myself, sheer perseverance pushing me forward, the mental overcoming the
physical, but then with the sounds of the laughing kookaburras, you had to
wonder who they were laughing at, of course me the silly fool, they were
obviously reading my mind. It was becoming a difficult day, if only I had not
taken the wrong trails earlier on. Did I say I was feeling fresh? Not
anymore. Of course with any uphill sections
there had to be downs and it were these downhill stretches I had to be grateful
for, nothing like an adrenalin rush from the speed. My mind and body were now
euphoric where previously they were in a state of fatigue.
As the sun was
setting I was not sure if I would make it to the overnight hut, ready to stop
then and there and set up tent anywhere, I had not much more to give, and then
without warning, coming into site in the twilight was the hut looming ahead. I
had made it. It was sheer perseverance and mental strength. I was now a lot
more wiser, lessons learned on the 1st day, yes it is okay to stop
(this is not a race) to consult the map more often, look for the markers,
better to backpedal a short distance that a long one especially with a bicycle
laden. This was only day one, a Herculean task, my thoughts, ‘…would I be up to
the task for the days ahead…’ surely my legs would need a rest, they certainly
felt as if they would need one, a fatigue I was certain that a brief overnight
rest would not be able to provide.
DAY 2 - THURSDAY 14TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
CARINYAH
HUT to JARRAHDALE
I
could say that ‘I don’t know what else there is to say that is any different
from yesterday’ but it was different for I hadn’t taken any wrong trails, well
maybe one or two, there were many to choose from, it would have been easy
enough, but being wiser I realized the errors in my ways, sooner rather than
later, and with directional markers not sighted I had turned around to retrace
my steps, to cycle back, to the last directional marker to get me back on the
correct track.
I hadn’t expected to cover so much distance
today, after yesterday I was feeling a little weary however I hadn’t found it a
particularly hard days ride, able to enjoy more of what was around me and to appreciate
where I was, so I kept the legs rotating propelling me on, slowly. There was no
other way to go but to go slowly not only because of the weight I was pedaling,
but also due to sections of the trails surface, of sand and gravel, slowing me
down.
Being
a mountain bike trail you expect to come across rough sections of trail,
rutted, deeply grooved through water erosion, to be scattered with rocks and
fallen branches that made it a little hazardous. It was now a pleasant change,
ones that I always looked forward to, to get the downhill descents. At times I
would descend at speed, the adrenalin ‘rush’ and the excitement of it took
over, that element of danger, hoping not to snag the bike and taking a tumble.
Often enough it was not a pleasant sensation to have the front wheel feeling as
if was going to slide from underneath you, working and concentrating to keep
the bike upright, mostly succeeding sometimes not. Some descents were steep
enough and rugged enough to leave me wondering if I would have any brake pads
left at all.
I was also not
the only person, sorry to say, ‘to my delight’, who had to walk and push their
bike uphill. Coming in the opposite direction I did meet another, obviously a
minimalist for I wondered whether he carried any food, where he got his water
from. Where he only carried one litre of water I
carried four and would drink at least 3 daily, the remaining would be for a
margin of safety if anything was to go wrong. He had half the load that I did
and like me he was camping out. These thoughts ran through my mind as we talked
about the trail. His view of the track ahead did not fill me with joy, ‘hard
going…very rocky…would need to have a rest day…’ With his interpretation now I
was beginning to wonder whether I would make it to the end of the trail. I knew
that his view would have to be taken into consideration lightly and that it was
best to take each day as it came and to see from there. In any case the further
you travel along the less likely you were to turn back. Turning back was not an
option.
I
had to remind myself that I was coming to the end of the day, I was beginning
to feel tired, and I had pedaled more kilometres than
I thought I was capable of and was now looking for a place to set up camp.
After consulting with my map I decided to camp at the bottom of the next uphill
stretch. I would rather pedal up, experience telling me that it was better to
be pushing my bike up in the coolness of the early morning after a nights sleep
when one is feeling refreshed.
It
was mid afternoon by the time I stopped, one of the advantages of an early
start, to have the rest of the afternoon to relax. I can say that when one
stops for the day you have a feeling of accomplishment and achievement that
makes the day worthwhile. With that and being surrounded by bush land (rather
than a scrubland desert that I am used to) I was looking forward to
peacefulness to discover that I had to share my space with the blow flies and
their constant buzz and droning, the mosquitoes coming in for that quick feed
and the ticks, who like their mosquito counterparts, were after my blood. It
would be an early night indeed to escape to within the safe haven of my tent.
By darkness I was in bed.
DAY 3 - FRIDAY 15TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
JARRAHDALE
to OAKLEY DAM
Another long
day, 8 hours in the saddle, on and off, that left my legs again feeling weary
accompanied with a sensation that I was going slower than the previous days. My
speedometer had also failed me so now I was left without an indicator of how
many kilometres I had done in order for me to
pinpoint my position on the map. ‘Murphy’s Law’, it happens at times when you
least want or expect them to. Still it was not something that would either slow
be done or leave me stranded. I had to be grateful for that.
Again
I pushed my bike and its cargo up a number of hills, working the muscles not
only of my legs but aware of the ones in my shoulders and back, aching. There
were many times that I would stop to look up ahead at the distance I still had
yet to cover and back to evaluate the distance I had already covered on foot.
It gave me a chance to stop and really appreciate the beauty of where I was and
to wonder whether it was all worth it. Without a doubt.
Many times I had
wondered whether many others would seriously call this a holiday, a times I was
doubtful myself. Then of course these doubts turned to elation that came with
the downhill runs, a sense exhilaration of movement at a rapid pace, that one
had to concentrate on the track and its many obstacles with hardly time to keep
an eye on the blur of the countryside, of grass ferns, black-boys, and
wildflowers sparsely dotting the landscape in shades of whites and yellows.
With
the end of each day there is always that satisfaction that there has been that
sense of achievement, heightened more so in the knowledge that I have overcome
many of the challenges that the day has thrown at me and also with the legs
feeling as if the energy in them has been expended.
DAY 4 - SATURDAY 16TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
OAKLEY
DAM to BIDJAR NGOULIN HUT
There
is never a better time in the day as when the dawn is breaking and as was
becoming normal practice I was packed up, loaded and away. Unlike the previous
mornings the sky was now overcast, rain looked ominous and as I started out I
could only hope that I would not be rained upon until I reached my next
destination many hours down the track. So far I had the good fortune of good
weather and a dry track and now with a change in weather conditions would certainly
lead to a change in riding conditions. I could only shrug my shoulders in what
will be will be.
After
a steep uphill climb to start the day the trail became relatively easy after
that, especially in comparison to the previous days, something my legs
appreciated greatly. I had made it to another hut by
Another
good reason to rest up was for the saddle burns that were now slowly niggling
away at me. I had also met a couple of
‘grey nomads’, and like me they were staying at the hut overnight. They were
now number two and three I had met on the trail (all going in the opposite
direction). With company the evening was quite a pleasant one, good company and
good conversation with others other than with ‘me, myself and I’. So when they
told me that their day had been an easy ride I had taken that information and
decided that with the short distance I had to cover, in comparison to what I
have been doing, I decided that I would indeed cycle on.
DAY 5 - SUNDAY 17TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
BIDJAR NGOULIN to LAKE BROCKMAN
It finally
rained overnight, cleared by morning, with the sky remaining bleak and
overcast. The rain had been favourable compacting the
earth, of course everything has its advantages and disadvantages and in places
there where huge pools of water that stretched from one side of the track to
the other. It also left the plants wet
that had overgrown the track so that as you rode through you also became wet,
almost like riding through the rain itself, nothing that a wet weather jacket
couldn’t handle. With a chill in the air, the weather had once again turned
cool, did I mention I lost my warm gloves when I bought my socks, so that now
my fingers were numb and burning with the cold.
By now, day 5,
my legs were not getting any more tired, though they are always relieved when I
stop for the day. By mid morning I had arrived at Lake Brockman, began setting
up a tent-site to discover I had no tent…’bugger’ and a few other words
muttered…shock turned to disbelief, were my eyes deceiving me…please, please
let them deceive…I only wished they were. I knew what I had to do, had a fair
idea where it was, it was more hoping then a fair idea. The thought of having
to go back did not fill me with joy, not something that I really wanted, so I
left my panniers where they were and went back. I had remembered a rough piece
of downhill track with the roots of trees criss-crossing
the track that bounced you around (and no doubt bounced the tent from its
netting) a short way out of
As
I rode back I had been deciding how far I was prepared to go, would it be 10,
15 or 20 kilometres. The decision made for me,
spotted in the distance, 5km back from where I was camping, my tent where I had
thought it would be. Glad to have found it so soon, I set up my tent and put my
feet up. Now this was more like it.
DAY 6 - MONDAY 18TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
The
rain had to catch up with me sooner or later and this morning it did. I left in
the rain, it rained on and off throughout the day, and then I finished as I
started, in the rain. It did make the track a whole lot slower and at times it
felt as if I were stuck to the track not making much progress at all. Some of
the path was so overgrown that it virtually made visibility impossible that
left you wondering if you were actually on the right track.
Minor
cuts and abrasions were to be had today. I have come off in the past but
without any bumps, bruises or broken bones. A wet, slippery downhill slope had
been the cause, my front wheel hitting a wet branch and instead of running over
it had slid across it taking my front wheel out from underneath me and over I
went. I was left with only a bruised thigh, and consider myself lucky, the dull
pain a constant reminder.
My
second fall, another downhill run had me go over the handle-bars, my front
wheel caught in a groove, my speed too fast going down and before I knew it I
felt myself tumble over the handle bars, my fall cushioned by a bed of wet
leaves. Another lucky escape especially for one that rides alone on a trail
where I had so far seen less than a handful of people.
With
this winter-like weather the cold was back and glad for the warm wear that I
had been carrying. It was back into what felt like the ‘cool room’. Tomorrow, my last day on the trail I was
hoping to end the way I began in sunny conditions, blue sky and sunshine. With one day left I could do nothing but
smile, inside and out, for I was almost there, the end in sight.
DAY 7 - TUESDAY 19TH
SEPTEMBER 2006
YARRI
HUT to COLLIE
The overnight
temperatures dropped from cool to cold to an ‘icebox’. I was as well rugged up
as I could be but the chill seeped in regardless. Although the huts protect you
from the weather they are not enclosed, the wind whistling through bringing
with it the wind chill factor. Sleep was a fitful one guaranteeing an early
start, up and away as the dawn sprang to life and the dark gave birth to light.
A chill remained in the air that left my fingers and hands numb, almost painful
as they gripped the handlebars. The sky remained overcast but non-threatening
and not wanting to take pleasure in another wet ride I cycled without delay
towards what signaled the end of my journey, the mining town of
With the last
day thoughts of what could go wrong were presenting themselves. So far nothing
had gone wrong mechanically though my tyres had a few
tears in their treads, my only concern.
It was a day of easy riding, pleasant and cool, mostly flat, a quick
track. By mid morning I was surprised but pleased at having reached Collie in
just a few hours, almost as if their was a magnet drawing me in.
To think that in
the first few days of the ride, as hard going as it was, I had wondered whether
I would make it to the end. After that however I relaxed into the ride, knowing
what my limits were, my body getting used to what it was up against. From the
beginning it was a challenge and now I sit back with the satisfaction of its
completion. It felt good.
Stage two of the
Munda Biddi – Bring it on.
Gregory ‘SOLI’ Solomon
(A man on a solo safari)