Mountains to the Sea

I wobbled off from home on a fully laden bike weighing 45kg and wondered why I hadn’t taken mum’s advice and chosen an easier route. But where would be the challenge in that? My goal was to circle the New England National Park, involving over 400km of riding – from sea level up to a high point of 1560m, then back down to the coast. And not only that, my plan was to ride it alone.

Having decided to spend 3 months cycle touring through Scandinavia I thought it was probably a good idea to see what I thought of travelling alone by bike. I wasn’t feeling daunted by the physical difficulties so much as the mental and emotional challenges of negotiating unfamiliar places with limited resources. So I conjured up this little adventure in order to see how I would fare.

Heading west from Kempsey, the dairy farms of the Lower Macleay soon gave way to rolling hills and heavily timbered country. The two small villages I passed would be the last for several days, as I made my way up into the hills. In the second of these villages, Bellbrook, I was invited in for a cuppa by the local doctor and his wife. They seemed to take me under their wing and offered me cake and kindly words of advice about the road ahead. This was the first of many encounters that helped restore my faith in humanity, and I left with a full belly and a big smile on my face.

I was slightly apprehensive about my first night camped alone. Although not a busy road, the route I was following is a thoroughfare to Armidale, and gets a reasonable amount of local traffic. In some ways I felt quite isolated, being just me and my bike with no means of contacting anyone quickly, and somewhat vulnerable to whomever the passers-by happened to be. However I awoke next morning to a valley deeply shrouded in mist and was greeted shortly thereafter with a warm and welcoming hug from a lady who lives just down the road. She was inspired by my journey and wished me all the best in my travels. And simple as that, my fears were alleviated and dissolved into excitement about the day ahead.

The Upper Macleay is very picturesque, with the river lazily winding its way through green pastures and wide gravel bars. From my vantage point on the road above, I could see deep into the boulder-strewn waters and to the distant blue hills which loomed larger with each passing kilometre. After a pleasant morning of gently undulating road, I began the unrelenting 11km ascent of the ‘Big Hill’. It was a really tough ride, but I was mentally prepared for it to be nearly impossible, so measured against my expectations it didn’t seem so bad. Slowly, slowly I wound my way to the top, with regular encouragement from passing motorists and even the occasional offer of a lift!

Reaching the top felt like a major accomplishment, but given the late hour I continued on in the hope of finding a campsite with water. I saw not a single soul along the forest road and as the daylight waned I gave up hope of finding water and made camp on a small side road. I celebrated that night with a special tin of dolmades I’d reserved for the occasion and enjoyed the night sounds and smells of the bush which made me feel right at home.

The Styx River Forest Way is an incredibly scenic drive. Tree ferns are scattered beneath tall stands of Eucalypts, and a short distance from the road the escarpment drops away to reveal panoramic views of the Macleay Valley. However by bike it was an absolute struggle. The combination of steep ups and downs and a loose rocky surface caused me to alternate between cursing dad’s suggested ‘short cut’ and revelling in the peace and beauty of the trail. Then all of a sudden I emerged onto a good dirt road and crossed a small stream containing the first water I'd seen since lunchtime the previous day. And with that, the national park and the high point of my journey was almost within reach.

Perched at 1563m above sea level, Point Lookout is one of the highest spots on the New England tableland and is the first place I remember seeing snow as a child. From the summit I could trace my entire route through the hills and even see the wide expanse of ocean 70km away. It is a gorgeous place, with sub-alpine woodlands and corridors of ancient antarctic beech trees draped in moss. I enjoyed the last few hours of daylight wandering about the top, then descended to my campsite amongst the trees, with a full moon watching over me.

It took two days to ride back to the coast, with the highlight being a spectacular descent through the lush rainforests of Dorrigo National Park. I was rather excited to encounter rain on the second day as it gave me a chance to test out all my wet weather gear and made me feel even more intrepid. After a day riding in the rain, my late afternoon swim at the beach seemed exceedingly warm in comparison. And best of all was the sense of achievement I felt in having accomplished something of a personal challenge, and enjoyed almost every minute of it.

For me, the biggest thing I learnt on this trip is just how important one’s attitude is in whether goals can be achieved. If you worry all the time about what might go wrong then things quickly become too hard, too dangerous, too difficult, and you limit the realms of possibility and cease to believe in yourself. I enjoyed the solitude of my ride but also discovered that I need to make those little connections with people to really feel like I’m experiencing a place rather than just passing through unobtrusively. Happily, it’s given me the confidence to embark upon my next adventure, satisfied in the knoweledge that I can make my dreams become a reality.

High road to Lhasa

Cheryl and I arrived in Lhasa on Saturday, being fortunate enough to secure the very last two seats on the last flight from Kathmandu for the year. Winter is approaching now, so the tourist season is coming to a close. And what a fabulous flight it was! We had the most magnificent views imaginable of the Himalaya stretching on forever. We stuggled to recognise particular mountains from such a high vantage point, but could pick out Everest, or Chomolungma, as she is known by the Tibetans.

Lhasa is a most extraordinary place. The juxtaposition of old and new is constantly bewildering. On the one hand we've visited numerous monasteries, many of which were built in the 7th century - a Golden Age of Tibetan Buddhism - and don't appear to have changed much at all in that time. Getting swept along the pilgrim circuits with old men and women murmuring their prayers and spinning their prayer wheels feels like we've been transported back to Medieval times. But on the other hand, Lhasa is an extremely modern city. The Chinese influence is ever-present, and massive amounts of money have been sunk into government buildings and infrastructure. Huge department stores sell all the latest Chinese and Western fashions and pop music blares on the street from Hi-Fi stores.

One of the highlights for me so far has been seeing an old woman with an ancient weathered face and all her teeth missing, dancing in the middle of the street to a Nepali pop song, a big smile on her face, oblivious to all the passing stares and enjoying herself immensely. There is an extreme sense of peacefulnes about the Tibetan people, and none of the hustle-bustle we got used to in Kathmandu. It amuses me no end to see monks in their simple red and orange robes walking barefoot down the street and chatting on their mobile phones!


We hired a guide and driver and tried to get to Lake Nam-Tso, which is the second largest lake in Tibet. It was an incredibly scenic drive, but our efforts were ultimately thwarted by heavy snow on a high pass, some 40km before the lake. Despite the wintery conditions we still managed to drive to the top of Largen La at 5200m (pretty amazing!) where we were greeted with views of the lake in the distance. It was too dangerous to negotiate the steep descent on the other side, so we returned to a nearby village where our guide, Tashi, insisted we join him in playing cards and drinking beer!

We're on a private 2-person tour, but even so the agenda is very much determined by our guide and driver, and it can be quite frustrating to always play by someone else's rules. Cheryl and I are thoroughly enjoying a couple of days to ourselves before we begin the overland trip back to Kathmandu along the Friendship Highway.

We caught one of the pilgrim buses to Ganden Monastery today and had a great time walking the two koras (pilgrim circuits) with spectacular views over the Lhasa River valley. There are mountains everywhere! I was naively expecting a flat plateau stretching as far as the eye could see, but here the landscape is dramatically mountainous. It is stark and majestic. Unlike Nepal, it is intersected by broad open valleys with scattered stone settlements. There are very few trees, and not much greenery at all. The mountainsides look bare and rocky, but there is enough dry grass in the valleys to support huge populations of yak.

The low point of my trip occurred yesterday morning when I got locked inside our hotel's outdoor loo for half an hour before finally being rescued. The Tibetan toilet experience is not a pleasant one, and it was a particularly foul-smelling place to find oneself trapped, an experience which brought me close to tears as I banged and yelled, trying to get someone's attention!

Later in the afternoon, while attempting to follow the Lingkor kora - an 8km pilgrim circuit which encircles the old part of Lhasa and the Potala Palace - we got a little bit lost and ended up climbing a hill above an army compound. The army officer far below was obviously upset and started yelling and pointing back the way we'd come. Having seen the big gun slung over his shoulder, we followed his orders without further ado.


Neither of us have had any altitude problems at all, but find ourselves noticeably breathless after walking up a flight of stairs. Lhasa sits at around 3600m and our walk today from the monastery took us to over 4600m. I'm assuming that our pre-acclimatisation while trekking has helped us to deal with the high elevations here.

With only one week left of my travels, my thoughts are already turning towards home. I feel somewhat restless, not sure if I want to return home or not, and slightly anxious about facing up to 'real' life. I feel frustrated and saddened by the complexities and incomprehensibilities of this world, but at the same time inspired to live simply and be true to myself. I think the thin, dry air of the Tibetan plateau must have a purifying effect on one's soul!