Walpole to Manjimup 2002

Walpole to Manjimup, day 5, Sunday 20 October 2002.

Manjimup sign

THE MIRACLE (OR WIMP-OUT) OF THE WILDERNESS

I left the motel at 7:45 am on a cool sunny morning, with winds almost calm, developing to a light north-westerly headwind. The day became warmer as I went on. There was a short descent out of Walpole, then a long climb, then a long descent. I reached the turn into the South Western Highway at Crystal Springs at 1251 in reasonable shape and greeted the South Western Highway that I would be on until Boyanup. I rested at 1258, again at 1278. There was a hill to climb every km or so and it was all getting too hard. Hills take it out of you and you don’t get it back.

I passed the entrance to the Broke Inlet road, which joins up with the Chesapeake Road. There was no sign saying `Road closed – bridge down’ or any such thing. Had I taken that road and come to the collapsed bridge I don’t know what I would have done. My memory of the spot isn’t clear enough to say whether I would have been able to carry the bike across the gully and resume. I probably would have attempted this.

A miracle, strictly speaking, is something which is impossible, according to the laws of physics and the way things happen, yet which happens anyway, like the miracle of the loaves and fishes or turning water into wine, or raising the dead. The small miracles I have referred to in the past and describe here, are actually low-probability events which, in their occurrence, break no laws, but represent an unlikely piece of luck.

At 1294, 16 km from the last break and 56 km from Walpole, nearly halfway to Manjimup and 11 km short of Shannon where I might have got some relief, but still nearly 40 km short of Quinninup, I spied a picnic spot on the other side of the road, a stone table and two stone benches. I decided to pull in and have a sit or lie down and recover a bit.

A glint of sun on metal told me that there was a car parked in the spot already, and as I pulled in I saw an old couple having their lunch.

They indicated to me that someone had decorated the stone table with flowers, and I agreed that it looked nice. They told me I looked stuffed, though not in those terms – they were nice Christian old people – and asked where I was going. I told them and they asked if I wanted to be taken to Manjimup.

I said yes, thanks, I could take the front wheel off the bike, and wrap plastic bags around the oily bits, and explained how Liz had put the bike between the front and back seats.

So it was agreed. They gave me half a salad bun they had been about to eat, the last of their bottle of wine and even a cup of coffee. We had a nice chat while all this was happening.

Eventually everything was loaded up and the conversation continued as we did the 60km into Manjimup. We had a great talk about all sorts of things, Bali, my overseas trip, their overseas trip, religion, accents, my job, and so on.

At the Pemberton turn-off the man (we were introduced but I have forgotten their names, as I do!) offered his wife the chance to turn and go to Pemby, but she didn’t take it up. I thought of saying that if they wanted to go there I could manage the last 15 km to Manjimup but we kept going and there was traffic behind us and the moment passed.

When they pulled up and let me out on a park at the outskirts of Manjimup, at 1:15 pm, they waved away my offer of money and said it had been great to meet me, they had really enjoyed my company. I told them I was in the telephone book and they should ring me if they were ever in Perth and needed help with anything.

They thought I was a great bloke. I don’t know if I really am. Anyone can be a great bloke for an hour, or even a couple of days. I don’t know if my workmates who have worked with me for 30 years would have a different opinion.

I re-assembled the bike and rode into town. I went to the tourist information office to find the location of the Manjimup Motor Inn, in Mottram Street. The man gave me a town map and showed me where it was. Mottram Street is just the continuation of the South Western Highway .

I thought of ringing them up to book a unit, in case the sight of a sweaty cyclist with zinc cream on his nose would make them say they were full even if they weren’t. But then I went straight down there and checked in without any trouble.

So, here I was in Manjimup, a day ahead of schedule and with the major stumbling block of the trip overcome. My acceptance of the lift was of course a wimp-out, but I make no excuses for it. I did what I did, I have laid out the facts in this report and the reader can sneer at me if they wish.

The wimp-out or miracle occurred next to the Mount Frankland National Park, between a bridge where the road crosses the Weld River and a smaller bridge where it crosses a small tributary of the Weld.

I tried to sleep for an hour but was coughing so much and was so feverish that it was impossible, so I got up and took a Polaramine and two Codis and showered and changed and went across the tracks into the town.

It is surprising how many shops are open in Manjimup on a Sunday. There were two supermarkets, not major ones but adequate, two bakeries and some cafes. I did my shopping and peered into the old Manjimup Hotel. I had decided against staying here this time because in 1998 it had been a bit run down, and it didn’t look any better now. It has associations with bike rides and memories going back to 1975, but I have got used to better accommodations and I needed them today.

As I walked away from the hotel a man passed me, looking a bit dejected with his bag slung over his shoulder. He turned to me and said “It’s a great life if you don’t weaken”. I agreed, and he walked on for a bit, then turned and asked me if I knew of any other accommodation in town, because he had tried to get into the hotel, but it was full. I said yes, and pointed to the flashing lights on the caravan park shop (`Manji Central’). I said that just to the left of that was a motel, and I had just checked in and they didn’t seem very busy. He could just walk straight across the tracks. He thanked me and went that way.

The next morning I saw him again, walking past my unit with his bag slung over his shoulder, so he must have got in all right.

I rang up Janet and spent half an hour on the `phone. I explained why I hadn’t come through Pemberton, which, had I done so, might have enabled me to visit them as half-promised. We talked of my ride and other things. I rang up the Exchange Hotel at Greenbushes to book a unit for the Monday night.

I finished my shopping and walking around and went back to Manji Central to buy dinner. This shop is open seven days a week from early morning till late at night. I don’t remember it before. It has flashing coloured lights on the front and a cheerful atmosphere and is quite busy.

Before going in there I turned and saw a glorious sunset over the town. There were different levels and shapes of cloud, different colours. I watched it for a while, wishing I had brought my camera with me. Then I dashed back to my unit to get the camera, by which time the sunset had changed. I took a quick snap, then thought, oops. I might have got the bag in the way of the lens. So I took another one, then thought, that wasn’t the best position, so I took a third picture. A waste of film. Should have had one of Middleton Beach and another of me inside a Tingle tree.

At Manji Central I ordered a hamsteak burger, a pepper steak pie and a bit of chili chicken. I settled into the unit (Room 30, $50) and relaxed with Sunday night TV.

Reading at Manjimup, end of day: 1297. Km for day: 59. Aggregate: 290. Km per day: 58. Kph to Manjimup: not applicable, and I didn’t note the time of the `Miracle’.

Walpole to Manjimup 2002

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