Munda Biddi Trail 2023

Dwellingup to Bidjar Ngoulin - 32 klms

Wide awake with anticipation that all will be fixed and I’ll be on my way I went for a walk. Walking with the sunrise recharges me and reminds me that with the dawn comes a new day that beckons a positive energy for what may eventuate.
With nearly two hours until the cafe opened I readied myself for a quick getaway. I’d removed all the bags, water bottles, tent and anything else that might hamper access to all parts gears and gizmos.
With everything crossed and a positive vibe I took my bike to breakfast. Armed with an extra hot flat white and an “Avo Nice Day” breaky - sourdough, avocado, feta and poached eggs I perched myself at a table all but facing the bike shop I just knew/hoped things were going to be better than yesterday.
Deep into Wordle to pass time, I was approached by a woman who introduced herself as Claudia, the assistant bike mechanic. Whilst it was not quite 9:00am she said that they were expecting me and that Paul - the guru of bikes would be in soon. He’d spoken with Colleen and she’d outlined my dilemma and he’d spoken to Claudia who’d greeted me and said that they were up for the challenge and their mission was to get me back on the Munda Biddi asap.
I watched as Claudia wheeled my bike into the workshop checked it in with Paul and the procedure began.
Not wanting to hover or be a sticky beak I waited as if in the waiting room waiting for the diagnosis, the prognosis. So, I had another coffee, solved Wordle, thumbed through the newspaper in horror and despair with the dreaded happenings in Israel, turned to a magazine highlighting all the attractions of the Murray river region of which Dwellinup and all its activities features greatly.
Now my mug was empty. It had been just over an hour and I could wait no longer. Cautiously, I wondered into the shop to have a browse at the cycling bibs and bobs and I was sprung.
Well that was good timing Paul exclaimed. You know it really had us stumped. There was no broken cable and yet the shifter was stuck blah blah blah bike terminology. Finally, we’d established that the cable was “pinched”. How or why we’re not sure but it’s good to go.
With glee in a roundabout sort of way they expressed their thanks. You see, mine was the first gravel bike they’d worked on and they went on to explain that this conundrum was a real learning process.
Strange how one’s own dilemma solves another’s. Hmmm!
What a terrific bargain- $30.00 for their expertise I was away.
And oh, what a wonderful experience today turned out to be.
Although the late start meant I’d have a shorter journey there were some glorious moments to share. Pea gravel was all but nonexistent. The track was hard and gentle with hills that my gearing allowed me to wind my way up and down with speed and exhilaration that I’d missed over the last 48 hours. I rode through the hilly Lane Pool reserve, along the Murray River, (a different Murray River)saw and heard running water and am now camped at Bigjar Njoulin hut. There are four of us here tonight- Ross from Fremantle but England originally. He is a bikepacker extraordinaire. If it’s rideable he’s done it all over the world and he estimates that this about his tenth Biddi Bash!!! Jim and Jock great mates who met playing table tennis. Jock is the better table tennis player whereas Jim is the younger by about 20 years is a more proficient rider.
Interesting to hear their stories and yet there is a common bond - we all detest pea gravel. Ross too! Mind you he encourages us to hang in there for the next day or so as the track surface becomes harder and more stable. We are all endeavoring to make it to Lake Brockman tomorrow.
Delighted! My tent is up. My bed is made.
My tummy is full. The temperature is plummeting and I’m warm and dozing.
Thank goodness for the kind caring helpful souls that sent me on my way. Sleep tight!Read more