Day 9 was a relatively uneventful day, marred by the fact that Chubb had to leave us at Bairnsdale as he had arranged to do some volunteer work for a week. After a teary farwell we rode through the stinking heat avoiding the highways as much as possible. 
We did manage to bump into a few fellow bike enthusists when thousands of cyclists rode past in the opposite direction. Welcome the Great Victorian Bike Ride. Riders of shapes and sizes on every type of bike imaginable turned their heads to watch us, all mouthing their confusion as we were seemingly going the wrong way.
Coincidentally we had chosen the same lunch spot as the GVBR and so when we arrived there was a carnival atmosphere with live music, sausage sizzles and even a mime. The mime was kind enough to break her statue pose to sign Chris's team shirt.
It was also humourous when one of the WARBYS (GVBR helper - stands for We Are Right Behind You) wanted to chase Chris down after he left the lunch spot as he thought our friend was directionally challenged. We arrived in Sale 115 km later and searched for accom. The first caravan park wanted to charge us over $100 and the second was infested by so many mozzies that even the owner advised us to find alternate sleeping quarters. We left there downhearted and with a plethora of mozzies bites. We ended up at camping at the showgrounds for $10 a night.
That evening a learnt to fear the night. When the sun goes down the flies left us, but a plague of mosquitoes, that would continue to haunt us for the remainder of our trip took their place. We enjoyed a dinner of Chris's Special with the bood sucking insects before retiring to the Greyhounds for a few drinks and a couple of games of Keno. We broke even on Keno, and a few drinks vouchers meant I didn't have to spend a cent. This long day on the road brought our travel total to 517km
On Day 10 we left Sale after a hearty breakfast at a local bakery before being faced with a quandry.
Being the brave adventurers that we are, the decision was made to take the coastal route. We came across a redbelly black snake who was laying across the shoulder, thank god Danene spotted that or their could have been some sick cyclists.
Chris, Jules and I decided to stop for a few sneaky ones at Welshpool before the six km ride to Port Welshpool.
We then decided a few travelers were necessary. Cheers Chris.
We camped at another caravan park, and met a great guy named Rosco. This is the inside of his living quaters...
...and this is the outside.
Once again we bunkered down for the night with the mosquitoes after completing a relatively easy 107km - bringing our cumulative total to 624km.
Day 11 was an easy ride to Wilson's Prom, followed by a gruelling hilly slog to the camping grounds.
The temperature reached 30 degrees at about the same time as we reached the entrance to the National Park, and I then realised I had a leak in my camelpac. In the insane heat as well as contending with lunatic schoolie drivers I had to race up intense hills and conserve my dwindling water supply. All this made arrival at the campsite and subsequent swimming at the beach all the sweeter. 
It was time to relax and enjoy our next rest day. 
Day 11 was a 92km haul bringing the group's peddling to a 716km total.
On day 12, our third rest day we went for a small walk and ate lunch on the edge of a cliff
before the rain sent myself and Jules to the car. Poor Danene and Chris got caught out still admiring the landscape and came back saturated. That night Chris and I were attacked by Wombats and Possums trying to get to my museli bars that I had accidentally left in my pants pocket, which I was using as pillow stuffing. The wombat manged to get tangled in the guy rope of our tent, and in a squeal of panic it ripped half our tent out of the ground. I love nature...
We did manage to bump into a few fellow bike enthusists when thousands of cyclists rode past in the opposite direction. Welcome the Great Victorian Bike Ride. Riders of shapes and sizes on every type of bike imaginable turned their heads to watch us, all mouthing their confusion as we were seemingly going the wrong way.
Coincidentally we had chosen the same lunch spot as the GVBR and so when we arrived there was a carnival atmosphere with live music, sausage sizzles and even a mime. The mime was kind enough to break her statue pose to sign Chris's team shirt.
It was also humourous when one of the WARBYS (GVBR helper - stands for We Are Right Behind You) wanted to chase Chris down after he left the lunch spot as he thought our friend was directionally challenged. We arrived in Sale 115 km later and searched for accom. The first caravan park wanted to charge us over $100 and the second was infested by so many mozzies that even the owner advised us to find alternate sleeping quarters. We left there downhearted and with a plethora of mozzies bites. We ended up at camping at the showgrounds for $10 a night.
That evening a learnt to fear the night. When the sun goes down the flies left us, but a plague of mosquitoes, that would continue to haunt us for the remainder of our trip took their place. We enjoyed a dinner of Chris's Special with the bood sucking insects before retiring to the Greyhounds for a few drinks and a couple of games of Keno. We broke even on Keno, and a few drinks vouchers meant I didn't have to spend a cent. This long day on the road brought our travel total to 517kmOn Day 10 we left Sale after a hearty breakfast at a local bakery before being faced with a quandry.
Being the brave adventurers that we are, the decision was made to take the coastal route. We came across a redbelly black snake who was laying across the shoulder, thank god Danene spotted that or their could have been some sick cyclists.
Chris, Jules and I decided to stop for a few sneaky ones at Welshpool before the six km ride to Port Welshpool.
We then decided a few travelers were necessary. Cheers Chris.
We camped at another caravan park, and met a great guy named Rosco. This is the inside of his living quaters...
...and this is the outside.
Once again we bunkered down for the night with the mosquitoes after completing a relatively easy 107km - bringing our cumulative total to 624km.Day 11 was an easy ride to Wilson's Prom, followed by a gruelling hilly slog to the camping grounds.
The temperature reached 30 degrees at about the same time as we reached the entrance to the National Park, and I then realised I had a leak in my camelpac. In the insane heat as well as contending with lunatic schoolie drivers I had to race up intense hills and conserve my dwindling water supply. All this made arrival at the campsite and subsequent swimming at the beach all the sweeter. It was time to relax and enjoy our next rest day. Day 11 was a 92km haul bringing the group's peddling to a 716km total.On day 12, our third rest day we went for a small walk and ate lunch on the edge of a cliff
before the rain sent myself and Jules to the car. Poor Danene and Chris got caught out still admiring the landscape and came back saturated. That night Chris and I were attacked by Wombats and Possums trying to get to my museli bars that I had accidentally left in my pants pocket, which I was using as pillow stuffing. The wombat manged to get tangled in the guy rope of our tent, and in a squeal of panic it ripped half our tent out of the ground. I love nature...Wilson's Prom: a bird's eye view of our beach.
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