Williams to Wickepin 2003

Williams to Wickepin, day 5, Friday 17 October 2003.

Wickepin

ANOTHER WIMP-OUT

When I awoke I found it hard to get up, I felt unable to manage the next two days, with two 70 kilometre runs. I did get up and get going, but this feeling on first waking up was the seed of the wimp-out to come.

I left the hotel at 8:23 am on a cool sunny morning, with winds westerly to south-westerly, a tailwind. The day became overcast as I went on. I went over the bridge and turned onto the Narrogin road, and took my first rest at 1044, at a concrete bench and seats conveniently set up beside the road. I was not carrying too many drinks – I was going to buy one in Narrogin to have at my second rest.

I reached Narrogin at 1057, 10:29, after free-wheeling down the long hill past the hospital and the motel where I had stayed in 1999. I stopped just long enough to buy a bottle of Power Ade and a $10 phone card, then headed for the junction, turned right and climbed up the long hill out of town towards Wickepin.

I had another rest at 1064, at another convenient concrete bench with seats, then a last rest at 1081. Somewhere along the way from Narrogin I had started to come around to the idea of going to Yealering the next day anyway and abandoning Kulin. This idea gradually corroded its way into my mind as my legs seemed to lose strength and my knees and back (diagnosed with arthritis this year) began to hurt.

By the time I reached Wickepin (1097, 12:53) it was almost a done deal. It had been only 72 km, the road wasn’t all that hard apart from one or two challenging climbs, and there had been a tailwind all the way, and it was cool, but this was how I felt. It seems that I can’t do the things that I used to. Or maybe I could physically, but not mentally.

I pulled up at the hotel and claimed my room. The place was in better shape than it had been in 1999, though retaining its ramshackle charm, and the proprietors were friendly and helpful. I went to the shop for a pie and drink then settled down for my lunch and a rest.

When I got up the sky had become overcast and a cold wind blew. I had my shower and did the washing, then went to make some `phone calls. Someone had glued a 20 cent coin to the steel shelf in the telephone box and I tried to pick it off as I made my calls.

I rang up the Yealering Hotel and booked a room for the next day. They told me that the hotel did not open until 3:30 pm on a Saturday and if I arrived earlier I should knock on the door. I certainly would arrive earlier, unless the bike broke and I had to walk – it was only 30km.

Then I rang up the Windmill Motel at Corrigin and was able to book a unit for Sunday night. They asked me not to arrive before 2 pm because they were booked out for Saturday and would need plenty of time on Sunday to do all the units. I would worry about that closer to the time.

Then I rang up the Kulin caravan park, to tell them that I would not make Kulin after all the next day. They didn’t mind, they were glad I had rung to tell them a day ahead of time. I expect they had had a better offer.

That done, I rang some of my friends to tell them where I was and chat about the trip. Afterwards there was no need for much shopping because breakfast was included in the room price (Room 1, $27.50, very good value these days) and I had bought six box drinks in Dwellingup and, with an empty plastic bottle to be filled with water, had enough to get me to Corrigin.

Since 1999 the historic Facey homestead, former home of Albert Facey who wrote of his ‘Fortunate Life’, had been moved into the town, carried bodily on a low-loader from the remote country where it had been built. It was now right opposite the hotel and a sign on the locked door said that the key could be obtained from the newsagent for a self-guided tour. I went to the newsagency, remembered from 1999, and asked the lady about this. She charged me $2.50 and said I looked like a trustworthy person, and gave me the key. There was no hurry to return it – the newsagency would not close till six. She told me where the lights were.

I unlocked the door and entered the gloomy house. The day was very grey now and windy and freezing and light rain fell intermittently. I had checked my washing but it was still damp and the wind would mostly dry it unless the rain got too heavy.

I turned on the lights and had an interesting tour of the house. There were just four rooms, a master bedroom, a children’s room, a kitchen-dining room and a front parlour with ornaments, a fireplace and pictures and bits and pieces for occupying long country evenings. I could imagine that the kitchen would have been the centre of this house as the kitchen table today is still the centre of many Australian houses. I took some pictures.

I returned the key and set off on the Yarling Walk, a winding gravel track past various points of interest, with plaques explaining what they were, or explaining what had been there if there was just an empty space. It started and finished near the Facey house. It went past the old police station which included living quarters, a courtroom and cells, past the old Road Board offices and the railway station. Passenger train services ceased in 1960.

I remember when on my way to stay with friends in Jerramungup in 1964, passing through Wickepin on the bus. A lively crowd was waiting for the bus in Wickepin, not to catch it but to get mail and parcels, welcome people returning and see people off and just enjoy a social get-together. I told my friends about this and they said yes, Bus Night in ‘Wickets’ was a big event. Jerramungup in those days was a brand new town that had been plonked down in the mallee country. I remembered being startled by the sight of a double row of mercury vapour street lights, quite a novelty anywhere in those days, suddenly appearing in the middle of nowhere, as it seemed. They marked what was to be the main street of the new town.

By this time it was getting very dark and cold and spasms of drizzle blew across the town. I went out the back of the hotel to get my washing in then went around to the bar to see about dinner. Both bars were crowded with cheerful people coming in for their Friday night. You could smoke in the other bar, through the door, and the dining area was non-smoking. The chalk board said that ham steaks were on special at $10, with chips and salad, so I ordered that. The salad was help yourself, from ten different varieties, beetroot, pasta, rice, coleslaw and so on, all nice and fresh and laid out under the lights. The whole area looked much better than in 1999.

The guest lounge was also much better set up than in 1999, not depressing any more, with a recent paint job and the furniture new or fixed, and all nice and clean. The TV was a new colour one that worked. Breakfast stuff was all laid out on the table or in the fridge for the next morning. I could have spent a pleasant evening in here with the TV but I decided to spend the night in the bar with the locals.

I felt happy and relaxed after having made my decision to cut the ride short and make it easier and more manageable.

In the main bar people were playing pool, the rugby was showing on the big screen and people were playing pool, playing the juke-box and smoking and buying rounds of drinks. I chose some tunes for the juke-box myself. Is juke-box still the right term?

During the evening I was chatted up by two women. One of them was the lady in the newsagency who had given me the key to the Facey house. The other one looked rather the same, with curly hair and denim jeans and jacket. I thought they were the same woman, and when the second one started asking me the same questions, what do you do for a job, where do you come from, are you riding around on a bike? Wow, I thought, what’s wrong with this person, is she losing the plot? In fact it was me that was at fault for not being able to tell one from the other.

Anyway, one of them told me the story of her life, how her marriage was over and she was happy now, working in a doctor’s office in Narrogin three days a week and driving the school bus for the district every day. She was impressed with the idea of riding a bike from town to town because although she enjoyed riding a bike she said she would be scared to leave the limits of the town and get out into the country.

When her boyfriend saw her talking to me he came over and staked his claim by hugging and kissing her in front of me. This was only three days before I was to be offered seniors’ rates at the Quairading Motel so I was flattered.

After a jolly evening I retired to bed at about 11 pm, since there was no hurry to get going in the morning. I blocked my ears and didn’t hear any more from the still noisy bar or any of the noise which there would have been at about midnight as the people got into their cars and left.

Reading at Wickepin, end of day: 1097. Km for day: 72. Aggregate: 266. Km per day: 53. Kph to Wickepin: 16.

Williams to Wickepin 2003

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