Oceania

Hello! This one has been sitting on my laptop for ages. But not until now have I had a decent enough wifi to actually post it. Sorry! But better late than never I suppose.

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No matter what our lives look like, we all have to deal with them. The inevitable annoyances that insist on making themselves part of our days, regardless of how much we might wish for them not to. By immersing myself in this roaming way of life I’ve escaped quite a few of them, and long gone are the days of alarm clocks and telemarketers. But then again – though the ones on the road take other shapes than those at home, they’re nevertheless there.

Headwinds and mechanicals. Lactic acid and saddle sores. Whatever they happen to look like, we better do our best to embrace them as they decide to come along – because there’s simply no way out. But while I can have patience with prevailing winds or poorly timed flats, there is one thing that I dislike above all else with this rolling life. Something that I seemingly can’t ever get used to, and won’t even try to turn into a positive.

I’ve already told you this time and time again. But fact is, I still hate them. All these stupid, never-ending Goodbyes.

My biggest difficulty with setting out on this adventure in the first place was kissing my loved ones farewell on that very first day. Still today I remember that odd feeling of relief as I actually rolled off. Ahead I had a world to peddle, but at least that first major hurdle was out of the way. Still unknowing of that I’d just had a mere taste of what would come to be a constant, unwanted companion during the years to come.

I would never ever claim that leaving my loved family and dearest friends was or is at all easier. But there is one significant difference. Even when talking years, a brother or a best friend will always, always be a ‘See you later’. Giving someone one last hug, and then take off without expecting to ever see them again is… different. And at times quite wearisome.

Which is the very reason why I was so happy rolling out of Alice Springs.

A super-dreamy week in the best of company wasn’t ending just yet. All I left behind was a house – not the people in it. (Though I still secretly mourn the cloud-like bed lovely Claire and Ben had set me up with). We ended up being 8 people setting camp outside Alice Springs that evening, and I got to be part of my first proper central Australia bush camp night. And yeah, it was one of those were you simply forget that you’ve ever owned a camera.

It was all there. The laughs around the big ass fire. The guitar. To-die-for roo camp oven. Wine in foldable camp mugs. Late night tea through TimTams. Swags under a picture perfect milky way. A month earlier I hadn’t even heard about half of these things, but I know I have a bunch of Aussies reading this blog that know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’d already been zigzagging my way halfway through the country, and saw no reason to continue in any other fashion. Once again I was headed west, up for a 800 km detour that’d take me past major natural wonders such as Wattarka/Kings Canyon and world renowned Uluru/Ayers Rock. And I was excited.

These were the places I’d dreamt of ever since Australia and it’s outback had first made it onto my route. And that the distances kept on being insane out there had never been less of an issue, as the days worth of road to get there would turn out to be my prettiest riding yet on this massive land.

Stunning cycling along the West Macdonnell Ranges. World class camping night after night. And a buffet of stunning gorges to hang out by along the way. All accompanied by constant tailwinds from heaven. Not too bad, not too bad.

Eventually came Kings Canyon, more than living up to the majestic nature Australia keeps throwing at me. I think I’ll let the photos do the talking on this one. Writing I’m weeks past it, but still equally blown away. There simply is no grasping the magnificence nature is capable of, is there?

If you ever have the opportunity. Go.

And afterwards. Do yourself a favor – and keep going.

Until next time,

Fredrika

Desert.

The word really has a different meaning to me now than before I’d physically been in a few ones myself. Raised in the forests of Sweden, my few references to these exotic, barren lands have all more or less resembled what one picks up from Disney’s Aladdin as kid. A never-ending beach without sea.

Tanami is green. It has a wet season and gets flooded each and every year. Resulting in a flora that definitely wasn’t part of my former cartoonish idea of these places. Green or not though, Tanami does provide it’s visitors with more than enough sand for everyone to share.

As some sadist compensation for the lack of dunes, the track you enter is a total sand pit.

I usually enjoy sharing a tale or two in posts like this. Let you in on a few of those more or less absurd events that take place in the life on two wheels. And though there are some quite peculiar ones from this ride as well, they were so far from the main ingredients of this ride.

More than anytime before, the one big thing has been the total absence of big (or small for that matter) things. With food setting the limit, I only had that much time to make my way through the 1100 km desert stretch. And reaching the daily distance did consume quite a bit of time, not to mention energy.

While I did meet the occasional trail angel and nutjob, had some quite memorable times in the couple of aboriginal communities along the way, and just about avoided running over a snake or two. I mostly just cycled.

Cycled. And Cycled. Pushed my way though the sandiest patches. And then cycled some more.

And there really wasn’t much more to it.

In a day there was (terribly slow) riding.

There was food.

At times there was a bit more sand and flies than one might prefer.

And then – there was the best part of the day.

Not too exciting, huh?

The funny thing is though, there are few things I enjoy nearly as much as this. Solitude is incredibly underrated. And considering that all those retreats people go to are so sought after, I seem not to be the only one thinking so. People ask me why I’m doing this, and I can’t describe it in any other way than that this is my dusty version of a couple weeks of silent yoga on Bali.

Plodding along a sandy desert track with a ridiculously heavy bicycle isn’t necessarily easy. But it sure is simple. The magic in that slow but constant movement is difficult to pinpoint to someone who’ve never experienced it. And I think those who have, really don’t need an explanation.

When thirsty you drink, and when hungry you eat. When tired you sleep, and wake up when your body thinks it’s time to continue. When letting our basic human needs rule your life, the importance of all those other things we’re caught up in fade a little more for each day passing.

There is gold in spending two full days with your one mission in life being to reach that next bore water tank.

Don’t worry. The odd taste is all from the pixie dust sprinkled in the water

I’m not sure how to wrap my head around it. How while I love all things new – be it seeing places, learning whatever or sharing moments with others. I thrive out here. When being nowhere. Doing nothing (oh well..). Meeting no one.

I don’t get it.

But hey. Who cares about understanding everything all the time? I don’t need to know how this works. I’m just happy it does. And I’m quite sure it does for a few of you guys as well.

Tailwinds,

Fredrika

I’ve never really understood this big piece of nothing that people keep referring to. Yes, it’s endless outback. But the most random things always keep breaking up the ‘nothingness’ into ‘somethingness’. You’ll see.

These were the words of Faith, a rolling power woman I met in Malaysia. After having spent months and months along the backroads of Australia, her path crossed mine in a modest hostel on Penang island. She knew the outback she was talking about, probably better than most born Australians ever will.

It’s not like I didn’t believe her then and there. But it’s not until now that I’ve truly taken in the words.

This is me riding through nothing. Along dirt roads that will always, always stretch themselves further than I could ever go. I spend a lot of time looking at birds. Singing. Slowly turning in and out on those long thoughts, you only ever have when without outer impressions for long periods of time.

Then every now and then, somethingness comes along.

Sure. Not very exciting for most people, and therefore not the best example. But after having spent the majority of my still not very long lifetime on the tennis courts around Sweden, this is something for me.

Or at least it was – until LR Bore.

Unexpected things happen while travelling. Some things though, are unexpectedly unexpected. That one thing usually leads to another is a common known fact, and after more than a year of odd travels I consider myself being well aware of this.

Luckily though, life keeps insisting on blowing my socks off.

Expecting the unexpected is generally a good way to go about a lot of things. The mind is limited though, and 2 days of full on cowboy life was definitely not on my list of possible outcomes of following this random sign in search for water.

Imagine a cattle station a la 1.5 million acres and 45 000 cows at mustering season. Then an incredibly friendly bunch of people, with an arsenal of swear words that would make your mother faint. Dress them in cowboy hats and spurs. Feed them endless amounts of beef with every meal. Add a load of dogs, horses, quad and dirt bikes. A helicopter. And lastly, throw in a random Swede who prefers to say Yes rather than No.

Turn on the blender.

Viola!

The nothingness has officially been turned to dust.

Sometimes I struggle to grasp the things I’m actually getting to experience. And don’t have much more to say other than that I am one very, very lucky human being.

Thank you Tess & Cam, Gina, Sam & the rest of you guys for opening up a whole new Australia for me. I will never, ever forget it.

Until next time,

Fredrika

(This post is a preset. I’m currently out riding, hopefully getting close to Alice Springs as this is published.)

And then suddenly – finally – I was there. On the 7th of May at 5 o’clock in the morning, I found my feet off the airplane and onto the Australian soil. I’ve taken seemingly great leaps forward on this journey before, but this one was undoubtedly the biggest one yet. The first one (apart from those few ferries, of course) not powered by my own force.

In a matter of hours, I’d been soaring though 3 time zones and a distance that usually would take me a couple of months to cover. Effective and convenient. Something my mind ignored completely, and as it constantly kept looping the thought of what – and who – I would and could have found underneath those fluffy clouds, back down on sea level.

A combination of excitement and lack of sleep turned the scene into a bit of a blur. Before I knew it, I’d been stamped into the country, reunited with my boxed up bicycle, and had some quarantine lady half-heartedly examine tyres and mudguards in search of hostile aliens, threatening to take down the entire continent.

‘Welcome to Australia’ she said, giving me a brief look before turning back to her coffee.

With a big dorky smile I gave my thanks in Swedish, and clumsily started pushing my baggage trolley towards the exit signs.

Australia. Continent No 3.

It’s a pleasure to meet you.

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I couldn’t have wished for a better introduction to this new world I was finding myself in. Greeted by Swedish Zandra and her Aussie husband Tim, I was spoiled ruthless from first moment. There was food. Wonderful company. The comfiest bed I’d been in for as long as I can remember. And perhaps most importantly, there was people willing and able to answer all my stupid questions about everything from twist-off beer bottles to crocodiles.

With both of them being avid cyclists we spent a couple of days cruising around Darwin on two wheels, while I was slowly getting gear and mind ready to take on the outback down south. Through great, and valuable days these troopers got me all settled in while dampening the culture shock to a minimum.

Thank you a million times!

Just before getting all too comfortable, it was time to hit the road. Though I was up for a smooth start along the big Stewart Highway, I was already filled with that good old feeling I’d been craving for so long. The tingly nervousness of someone stepping out of her comfort zone.

Joined by Zandra and Tim I peddled out of town, just as the first sheds of light made their way into the damp Australian morning.

Minutes turned into hours, and to days.

I had still barely gotten started. But perhaps that was the very reason behind the tumult of butterflies in my stomach those first days. That golden anticipation spiced up with a healthy pinch of hesitancy. After months and months of undefined frustrations in Southeast Asia I was getting back out there. Finally reuniting with my one big love. On the verge of once again, immersing myself in full on adventure.

Australia. Continent No 3.

It doesn’t take much to realise that this will ride will be nothing short of amazing.

Guys. Will you join me for this one?

Fredrika