New Day Rising – Day 1

23 February 2025

Jaimathang Country

Lightning Creek Campground to Willis Creek Bridge – 9 kms

There are clouds hanging over the trip. Literal and figurative.

Wisps of moisture hang down in fingers of fog from clouds that cloak the surrounding hills. A steady rain falls as we pull into the campground.

I know there is a covered rotunda in the day use picnic area of this campground, and this will allow me to get all my gear together in a dry space. However, some arses have yanked the barriers out of the ground that prevent vehicles from accessing the grassy picnic area. They are camping next to the rotunda which they’ve taken over as part of their campsite.

Nigel parks far away from the rotunda and says, “I think it’s full.”

I reply, “That’s the day use area. They’re not allowed to camp there. They are just going to have to share.”

Nigel’s eyebrows raise, but he does not protest. He helps me pull out my panniers, fork bags and bike and then follows me as I quickly stride toward the rotunda through the rain. It really sucks to get rained on at 0 kms on Day 1 of a ride. I may be pretty shy, but I am absolutely not afraid of anyone, not even five bogans and their gargantuan dog that is barking at us.

I approach the rotunda, and the five super rednecks look at me with skepticism and confusion. I just say, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind if I share this day use picnic shelter.”

They’ve got an entire cooking setup on the picnic table, lawn chairs set around it and stuff hanging to dry from the sides, but there is room to squeeze the bike next to the wood bench that provides seating along the edges. They can’t really say no.

They all just look at me for a second. There is a round butch chick with short hair, a lazy eye and a baseball cap, a tall, overweight, jovial dude that reminds me of my cousin Adam, a skinny 16-year-old chick with a nose piercing who is very quiet and very hungover, a skinny aboriginal guy with a bunch of tattoos who seems to be doing all the work to clean and pack up camp, a skinny tattooed white dude that looks like every skinny white dude arrest warrant photo you’ve ever seen, and an overweight chick sitting in a camp chair. She’s vaping and giving everyone orders.

I tell them I just want to get my gear together where it’s dry and wait out this band of rain before I take off. The butch chick says, “yeah, that is fine.”

I turn to give Nigel a hug and thank him for all of his help to get me to the ride start. He gives me a long hug and then says, “Ok, be safe. Be careful. And remember I can come get you wherever, if you need me this coming weekend.” He looks at me intently, his blue eyes almost watering as the figurative clouds hanging over the trip concentrate moisture in his eyes. He knows how desperately I want to go for a ride. He gives me the “I am very serious” look.

He doesn’t think I should be leaving on the ride today. He thinks I should wait a week. 10 days ago, I injured my back at the gym. I was doing a lift I’ve done thousands of times, and often with at least twice as much weight, but somehow I twisted or something and have really tweaked my back. The pain was instant and severe (it was one of the muscles spasming and contracting tightly as my body tried to protect my spine, says my doctor). I could not bend forward or backward much at all, and the movement involved to stand or sit up was agonising.

Luckily, I had an appointment with my GP to go over my shoulder MRI results the day after I hurt my back. So while getting the MRI results (moderate adhesions indicate frozen shoulder, and there is still one tendon tear with fraying in the supraspinatus), I asked my doctor about my back. She didn’t think it was a strained muscle, she thought I’d herniated a disc. She told me the best thing is ibuprofen three times daily, total rest for 7-10 days, then light exercise using physio recommendations for another two weeks, and then slowly building back to normal after that.

She said herniated discs aren’t really too big of a deal. She said they are incredibly common: do an imaging scan of 10 people over 40, and 80 percent will have a herniated disc. Lots of people have them and don’t even know it. Most of the time that spongy bit that gets squished out will calm down shortly after injury and cause no problems. It’s only when it presses against a nerve that there will be a problem.

I told her I was planning to go on a bike tour in the mountains next week. She knows me well, so she just said, “That wouldn’t be advisable. But if you think you can manage the pain, then the three warning signs to look out for that would indicate a need to seek medical attention are: 1) if your leg wants to collapse with weight put on it, or you have trouble lifting it, or the pain starts travelling down your leg; 2) if you have trouble peeing; 3) if you have trouble with bowel movements. These all indicate that nerves are being compressed and you need to stop.”

She told me that normally it takes about 4-6 weeks for a herniated disc to calm down, so I should just keep up the ibuprofen and don’t ride too far into the pain. Take lots of breaks and don’t stay in any one position too long.

Poor Nigel saw me the day after I tweaked my back and how I could hardly move. He’s not convinced I’m right to ride, even though much of the pain went away after the spasmed muscle finally relaxed. But he also knows that once I say I’m going to do something, I do it.

After Nigel leaves, I set about attaching my fork bags and panniers. The bogan group are all very hungover. It’s 10.30am, and they didn’t stop drinking until about 5 hours earlier. It’s been a 48-hour session. The butch chick chats to me, and she brings the absolutely huge 78 kg dog over to me so he will stop barking. The tensions ease. They more or less accept my presence.

I listen to them talk as I wait for the rain to quit. The skinny white dude wants to open the last kindersurprise (a chocolate egg with a toy inside), but he wants someone to eat the chocolate. His whole family are Type 1 diabetics and he doesn’t want to get it himself. They argue about Type 1 vs Type 2. The bossy chick says Type 1 is when you don’t have enough insulin and Type 2 is when you have too much and it makes you fat. Hmmm…. on the right track, but not quite.

The guy is excited that his kindersurprise toy is a koala. They had brought one for each person to celebrate the butch chick’s birthday. They are all happy for him, because all of the other ones had been the same. They debate about what animal it is and can’t agree whether it was an anteater or an aardvark. Hmmm… I’m guessing if the guy got a koala, they all got echidnas since there was obviously an Australian theme.

They ask about what I’m doing and cannot fathom the distances that I say are achievable on chipseal or on 4WD tracks. They think my saddle looks very uncomfortable. They think it would be scary to go alone. The usual stuff.

And so I wait out the 1.5 hours of rain there in the rotunda with a group of people I would never ever know in normal life (even though they are from the same town as me). They slowly pack up all their gear and talk about how it will be a slow drive home and how they need to stop in Mitta to get lots of energy drinks. Skinny white dude has a breathalyser and he comes in at 0.10 (.02 over the legal limit). He thinks that is pretty good – he stopped drinking around 3am and started trying to hydrate, he says. Everyone else kept going for another couple hours. But hey, they’re going to drive home anyway as soon as they finish packing….

Luckily, I’m not going in their direction and the rain ceases. It is now just super hot and humid with the sun ducking in and out of big, puffy cumulus clouds. I bid them farewell and head off toward the logging road that takes off from the back of the other camping area. It’s the last people I’ll see until I hit the Omeo Hwy 48 hours or so later.

I have to cross a branch of Snowy Creek just 400 metres into the ride. I take off my shoes and socks, pack them under a pannier hood, and then survey my options. The middle, where the 4WDs cross, is the deepest. The current is stronger but shallower to the left toward some rocks. There is another shallower line off to the right, but there is a crotch-deep hole in the way of that line. So I head left. I push/pull the bike over the big rocks underneath, carefully placing and planting each foot before each movement of the bike. The water is mid-thigh deep but manageable. Nothing like dipping that brand new bottom bracket under water 15 minutes into the ride!

I make it across without any issues. That will end up being the deepest and fastest current we will encounter on our trip. Straight out of the gate.

I stop on the other side to put on sunscreen and then the guys and I go spinning up our first hill of the trip. We slowly and gently climb up and away from the creek, weaving in and out of the hill contours on a very gentle grade. The surface is good – you could take a touring bike on this one easily.

I am immediately reminded of what a fun and comfortable bike this is to ride. I’ve been riding The Wizard the past couple months since its narrower bars were reachable. I note that I don’t have trouble reaching the much wider bars today, but I do quickly realise that my shoulder will get tired in that position if I ride too long.

I also note that, yes, my back is going to be my limiting factor. It is already a bit uncomfortable just 30 minutes into it on a smooth, gently climbing road. We’ll just have to work with it, I guess.

We reach Bogong Saddle. This logging road, Dunstans, continues on the other side of the main highway here, but we head downhill instead on the Snowy Logging Road. This road has been freshly bulldozed in preparation for an upcoming planned burn on Mulhauser Spur, so it’s clear of rocks and sticks but rides quite soft.

We enjoy the zippy downhill that follows the contours down to Willis Creek. I’m hoping to find a place to camp near the bridge. Today was just about getting away from the campground (I hate camping in campgrounds) and testing the bike, not about putting down kms. I wasn’t quite sure what the rain would do either, so hadn’t really expected much for today.

Just beyond the bridge is a little pull-out with an old picnic table. That will do! There’s not much flat ground, but I find a spot that will work. I get the tent set up and then go for a walk further up the road. I come across the bulldozer and note that it is a D9. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one in person before, but I’m very familiar with them. They are the ones they use to bulldoze containment lines during bushfires. I didn’t realise they were quite so big, but it certainly makes sense how all of those guys that have rolled them on steep slopes don’t survive the accident.

I then clamber up the hill off the road and go pre-dig a hole for morning toileting purposes. It takes some time to dig a whole of appropriate ‘leave no trace’ depth, so I always pre-dig holes in the evening when I can.

On the way back to the tent, I catch sight of an agapanthus plant out of the corner of my eye in the trees just beyond the pull-out clearing. Those aren’t native, and you don’t often see them in the bush (they are an invasive plant), unless it’s near an old house site. I then note that there is a rectangular and narrow stone next to it.

I go over to have a look. Among the bigger trees is an old campfire ring, two rotting old wooden benches with names carved into them, and a plaque on the stone. It’s a memorial to a 22-year-old bloke who died in 2007. It talks about him being a hunter. I wonder if he was killed in a hunting accident near here? (I look it up when I get home. It sounds like a suicide. The guy was from a little village not far from Albury. He told his family he was going hunting south of Mitta, but didn’t return home. Campers found his body at Dartmouth – which isn’t this location – a few days later. I’m not sure why the memorial is right here).

I go down to the bridge, negotiate all the black berries and long grass, and filter a few litres of water. As I’m doing this, I hear the first rumbles of thunder. Dark clouds are gathering off toward Mt Bogong.

I crawl in the tent to get away from the mozzies and work on organising the tent for sleep. I am a bit rusty on making a pillow from the panniers! The storm comes through, drops rain for about 45 minutes and then rumbles onward. Ahhh, to finally be on the road again!

Sometime in the night I hear and feel this big collision with the tentpole near my head. It wakes me and I think it must have been a branch falling, even though I’m not really under any big trees. Then, something slams into the other tentpole on the other side of the tent.

WTF?! I sit up, unzip the tent and then unzip the fly. What was that? Down on the road, I see what I think is a fox. But maybe it’s a dingo pup or wild dog pup. Its size is fox-like, but it’s a beige colour and its tail is erect. Do foxes do that? Its ears seem broader than a fox?

I don’t know. It’s moonless and dark, and my torch is not super bright. The animal then charges the tent again as I’m sitting there with my head poked out. He gets within a few feet before he backs off. I pick up a stick and throw it towards him. He advances and retreats again.

Grudgingly, I get up and crawl out of the tent. I run at the animal. It retreats and then starts to try to flank me. It seems very intent on getting in my tent (I do not have any meat or any opened food in there other than peanut butter in a jar and two used protein bar wrappers). So I zip it closed, run at the animal again and get to the road. It tries to flank me again. I run at it. It retreats. I pick up some rocks and begin throwing them at it. Oh dear, I am such a poor throw – my shoulder doesn’t have the ROM to get much force or distance. I’ve always thrown like a girl, but this is even worse!

The animal retreats. I run after it, throwing rocks at it the whole way. Please note I’m barefoot on rocks in the pitch black with a weak torch trying to illuminate the animal, while also throwing rocks with my crappy shoulder. I’m sure it would have been hilarious to watch. Finally, it runs on down the road and then off into the bush by the bridge.

That was weirdo. I’ve never had anything like that happen before. I gather up a bunch of good-sized rocks and place them in a little mound by my tent door. I also get a big stick and put it next to the rocks. Just in case the animal comes back. But it never does. Day 1 done.