The flat coastal riding south of Adelaide was a nice way to ease back into things. I’d made some good mates at the hostel where I’d been living and working, so it felt strange to leave that little routine behind and hit the road again.
The terrain became much hillier as I reached the Great Ocean Road. Despite the traffic, it was a beautiful stretch to ride. I detoured into the Otway forest to camp for the night, then rejoined the road and continued into Geelong to catch the ferry to Tasmania.
The ferry was slightly stressful — I didn’t know the process, so when they told me to remove the bags from my bike I ended up stuffing all my damp clothes into random bags. This came back to bite me when the Tassie biosecurity dog picked out every one of them. I had to unpack everything to prove I wasn’t carrying food, much to my embarrassment as I emptied piles of wet clothing onto the floor.
Heading down the west coast of Tasmania was incredible. Quiet gravel roads through wild, empty country — it felt like being back in New Zealand. It was brutally hilly, with short rolling 20% climbs winding through burnt-out forest.
Passing through the historic mining towns of Zeehan and Queenstown felt like stepping back into the gold rush era.
Next I took another ferry out to Bruny Island. Unfortunately the far south of the island was closed due to a forest fire, but I still found an amazing camp spot along Four Mile Beach — a definite highlight.
Reaching Hobart on a Sunday, I rode straight through the city. The centre was deserted, almost boarded-up, so I continued east to ride the other side of the island north. There were some fantastic logging roads winding through the forest, along with some very rough firetracks.
After a few grim days of rain, I made it up onto the Central Plateau — a huge lake-filled landscape at around 1000 m. The riding was perfect with a massive tailwind pushing me across it.
My last few days on the island were spent riding back to Devonport to catch the ferry to the mainland.
I had just three weeks left in Australia, and all that remained was riding from Melbourne to Sydney before flying to South America. Wanting to get my bike checked over, I booked a service in Melbourne, only to find out I’d been riding on a cracked rim. It took almost two weeks to get it replaced, so making it to Sydney was going to be tight.
I set off along the Great Victorian Rail Trail, making fast progress, before heading into the Victorian High Country. I tackled a few big climbs through the Falls Creek ski area and over the Tom Groggin track.
All that stood between me and New South Wales was the Murray River. After heavy rain the night before, I was worried it might be too deep to ford, but I made it across — waist-deep water, carrying my gear in three separate trips.
Joining the Alpine Road, I had one last major climb before the flatlands. It topped out at around 1500 m, and I started the ascent in light rain. It got heavier and heavier as I climbed, but with no shelter and trust in my bags waterproofing, I kept going. Near the top, thunder and lightning rolled in and fog closed around me. With only a hundred metres left to climb, the rain suddenly turned to huge hailstones, stinging every time they hit. At the summit I threw on every layer I owned and began the 40 km straight-line descent, hoping the weather would improve as I dropped altitude. By the time I reached Jindabyne, the sun was out and I could start peeling layers off. From there it was one more day’s ride to Canberra through scenic farmland flanking the Snowy Mountains.
Canberra marked the final state/territory I needed to visit in Australia. With time running out, I ended up taking the bus to Sydney instead of riding the last stretch.
I was disappointed not to pedal into Sydney, but I probably didn’t miss much — a cyclist I’d met in Tassie told me the “best” route into the city was along the main highway.
Looking back, riding across Australia was everything at once—beautiful, brutal, isolated, and bigger than I ever imagined. From empty red roads to dense forests, storms to freezing nights and baking days, the country really tested me and my gear and I’m glad to have made it across in one piece.
Will Scam 