27 February 2025
Jaimathang Country
Omeo Hwy Camp to Omeo
I’m balancing my bike in the middle of the highway, attaching my panniers to the rear rack. My sleeping pad and flip flops (thongs) lie on the chipseal in the southbound lane.
It is just on first light now as I reach down, pick up the sleeping pad and lay it on the rear rack, still balancing the bike with one leg as I stand beside it. I thread the flip flops through the straps that hold on the sleeping pad and then cinch down the pad. I wrap the leftover strapping around the pad where it hangs off the rack and then tie it off. I turn on the rear blinkie light and my torch that I strap to the handlebar bag. We’re ready to go ride.
Over the past 30 minutes, I’ve watched the stars recede and the sky turn from black to purple to white as I packed up my gear and tent at the campsite. I attached the tent to the front cradle, tightened up the straps on the front fork bags and then carried the panniers up the steep hill. I then returned to grab the bike and push it up. All the while, a testy sambar deer on the opposite riverbank honked in alarm.
The idea is to get to Omeo as early as possible so we have the full day to sort out our next moves. Plus, I really enjoy riding in the silence of first light before any humans are out and about. I like gliding down the road with just the hum of my tyres, feeling like the road is all mine, if only just for a short time.
We pedal the long, gentle climb past Bundara Picnic Area and then up over the hump that divides the Big River from the Cobungra. They merge not far below Anglers Rest and become the Mitta Mitta River there. It then takes a swing to the south before it doubles back to the north to empty into Dartmouth Reservoir.
The sun is just about to crest the hill as we reach the quarry above Anglers Rest. Another deer honks in alarm as we zip down the other side of the hill and over the single-lane, wooden plank bridge. There’s no one camping in the campground here this morning.
It’s then a bit of climbing that gets us up the valley wall. And then the road just zigs in and out. Sometimes I’m imperceptibly climbing, sometimes there is a slight downhill. It mostly just feels flat as we follow the river downstream way up high on the hillside.
You can check out some video of this bit (going the opposite direction) in an old video I put together here (Omeo Hwy bit starts at about 2.20):
The school bus passes going the other way. I roll out of the forest through rolling paddocks at Bingo Munjie. The school bus and a 4WD overtake me just before the bridge. And those are the only vehicles I see until I get closer to Omeo.
Wow – they’ve totally upgraded the bridge and its approaches. It used to be a single lane wooden ‘pick a plank’ bridge with wooden ‘guard rails’. Coming from the other direction, it was a pretty zoomy downhill and somewhat tight left-hander onto those planks. All of the super curviness and danger have been removed.
We climb up out of the valley, over a saddle and then roll on down the curves and the long straight above the Omeo Valley. Gosh, I remember this downhill being faster in 2016. Damn knobbies – so, so good for the 4WD tracks, not so good for speed on chipseal.
The road down in the valley undulates over small hills and down to tributary creeks. And then there are the two grunter hills that are a bit steep as you get into the edge of town. The old highway went around those hills….
I ride up to the sportsground and sit on the picnic table overlooking the oval. It’s my first phone service since leaving the motel on Sunday. I start to sort out some logistics as a guy keeps driving around and around the outside of the oval as his overweight dog runs along inside.
My plan of attack is to head down to the park, have something to eat, and then once the council offices open, ask about the bus services. The internet suggests that I can get to Bairnsdale or Bright/Wangaratta tomorrow. However, it’s good to get local knowledge about these runs.
Once to the park, I discover they now have showers attached to the toilet block. Score!! I partake. The water is nice and hot and I get nice and clean. So good!
The showers are part of a 2-stage, $10 million dollar development of a mountain bike park and pumptrack funded by the state government. They’ve really gone all in on this. There’s also a bike repair stand, some murals on the buildings and maps showing the trails. A local company does shuttle service to the top of the mountain.
There’s a guy who runs a coffee/bike shop here in town that does bike repairs. But when I roll up there after I shower, the shop is closed. The guy just seems to open when he feels like it. He does not advertise a mobile number, just an email address. The shop doesn’t have regular hours.
The woman at the council office/visitor centre is helpful. I tell her I need some info about the bus services as I need to take my pushbike, or its wheel, for repair. She confirms the internet info but then says, “The guy who drives the Bairnsdale service also runs it as a freight service. He could probably take your bike down below the bus with the freight. If you come back here at 4.00pm, he’ll be coming back on the return run, and you can ask if he can take you and your bike. His name is Kieran.”
The service that goes to Bright does not take bikes. So it looks like maybe the bike and me can go to Bairnsdale tomorrow at 6.30am. Or maybe the rear wheel and me can go to Bright or Wangaratta tomorrow.
The visitor info woman goes to get the full-time mountain bike coordinator (I told you they’ve gone all in) to ask about the local guy and whether he could fix my bike. The mtn bike coordinator is probably just a bit younger than me. He confirms the only contact details for the local guy is via email. (No thanks – give a phone number so someone can leave a message – either you want business or you don’t).
I tell the coordinator that I was impressed with the showers and would like to make a donation. He says several people have asked about that, but they don’t have a mechanism for that yet. If the community centre is open next door, I can donate there. He is very proud of all the work they’ve done so far on the mtn bike trails and facilities.
So next I start ringing bike shops. One place in Bright does not answer. The other shop doesn’t favour people on the road and says Tuesday is the earliest they can do. Nah, I could get all the way to Albury and back way before then!
But, the Giant store in Bairnsdale says ‘no problem’, we can fit you in. They are even happy to fit me in according to when the bus arrives and then returns to Omeo (in case I can’t take the bike and need to come back with the wheel). They are booked out for the next 10 days but they do their best to keep the tourers on the road (Bairnsdale sees a lot of people doing the ‘lap around Oz’, as well as being at the start of the long rail trail to Orbost.) Awesome folks – they did a minor brake adjustment for me back in 2017, I think, and I bought a tube there on my last tour.
Okay, so now it’s 10.30am and I know I’m heading to Bairnsdale tomorrow. Whether the bike is coming with me, or it’s just me and the rear wheel, won’t be known for awhile. Bairnsdale is a 2-hour bus ride south on the other side of the mountains down by the coast.
So now we can attend to other business. But first, here’s a look around Omeo. It sits in a rain shadow with the Great Dividing Range to the south and the high mountains around Mt Hotham to the west. It sits tucked among lower hills along Livingstone Creek. Gold was a big deal here and you can hike and bike up in the old gold digging area along the creek west of town. The 1939 bushfire took out the western end of town, and it was very touch and go with the 2003 fires. There is an info board about both fires in town near the artillery cannon thing on the main street.
I head up to the op shop. I’m lucky that it’s one of the two days per week it is open. It is in the rectory behind the church. I only carry two shirts – an on-bike and an off-bike shirt. They are both pretty stinky at this point. So I need another shirt I can wear today while I handwash the others so I won’t be offensively smelly on the bus tomorrow.
The Anglican church is an early 1900s red brick building with a concrete and chain link fence out front. I roll the bike over the concrete step and then just leave it on the lawn. I walk around to the rectory and am amazed at how much stuff they have in there!
There’s a slightly hippie looking woman with neck and arm tattoos in there already shopping. I look through the women’s shirt rack, looking for a basic t-shirt. The woman is opposite me across the rack and holds up a handmade shirt with many different blocks of coloured material that looks like a quilt with arm holes. She says to me, “what do you think of this one?”
I reply, “Quality seamstress. It’s all yours.”
She laughs. As we continue looking through the rack, she shows me several other interesting options. I must say, however, that there were actually a lot of decent things in there and I could have picked up a couple of nice work blouses if circumstances were different.
Then I strike gold in Omeo – an old gold town.
I find the perfect t-shirt. It is bright blue. The print has some hearts and arrows on it and one cow in the centre. The text says, “I just really like cows.” I hold it up to the lady and say, “I’m so sorry, but you’ve missed out on this one.”
She says, “Really. You’re going to buy that one?”
I reply, “Yep, and I’m going to wear it as soon as I leave the shop.”
She says, “Oh yes. You must. That one is awesome.”
So for the princely sum of $2, I have a shirt to wear today while the others get washed and dried.
I head back to the park, do my washing and then find a spot in the shade. It will get to 34C here today – summer just won’t quit this year. I then pull out the maps. I need to start thinking about a new route, because what I’ve got mapped out is not going to work if we end up with the bike in Bairnsdale. How can I pick up some of the tracks I’ve thought about riding out of Omeo coming from the south instead of the north?
And so goes a few hours. I talk to one guy a bit older than me who has been out on the trails. He’s from Brisbane and is doing a big tour of all the mtn bike parks in VIC and the new ones on the South Coast of NSW. He says these trails are pretty scary – they have lots of exposure and will be hard to maintain with winter rains. He also says Omeo needs some other attractions – like there’s nothing to do after you’re done riding trails for the day. He thinks the ultimate town is Queenstown in New Zealand – so much to do when you are off the bike and a lot of good restaurants and bars. Yeah, Omeo is never going to be Queenstown.
He also confirms the caravan park is ‘a bit rough’ which is such a shame because it used to be really good and really cheap. The old managers who were forced out sometime after COVID really understood touring cyclists and were really nice in general.
Finally, 4pm comes and I ride over to the bus stop. I leave the bike against the picnic table and go meet the coach driver after he arrives. He says it is no problem to take the bike tomorrow.
So then I head back down to the park and then along a path that will take me over to the caravan park without having to climb the steep hill in town. I almost get taken out by the mtn bike shuttle ute when he comes flying around a blind corner. Then the track becomes singletrack and there’s a dance over rocks to get over a side creek. The track then widens back out and we reach the far end of the caravan park.
It’s 4.30 pm – prime check-in time and they do not have the office staffed. There’s a big sign with a QR code for you to pay on the website. That is so off-putting!! I reach into my pannier for my pencil case that holds my mobile phone and wallet. Shit. It’s not there. I check the other pannier. Nope. I rummage through both again and pull nearly everything out of them. Fuck. It’s not there. I must have left it on the picnic table where I had the bike when I went to talk to the bus driver.
So I ‘race’ back toward town on the road, which requires riding up a big hill into the wind. I scream back down the hill in town to the picnic tables. It’s probably been 10-15 minutes since I was here. Not there. Fuck. Now I don’t have any I.D., phone or money. Shit. Shit. Shit!!!!
Maybe it bounced out of the pannier on that rough and bumpy singletrack on the way to the caravan park. Sometimes I don’t do up the inner drawstrings when I’m not going far. So we scream down the hill back into the park and then down the trail.
And thank Buddha or Allah or the road gods, because there is my green Oscar pencil case lying in the middle of the track. My blood pressure comes back down from dangerous levels.
I decide I really don’t want to stay at that now-shitty caravan park, particularly since I need to be packed up and at the bus stop tomorrow at 6.15am. So I head over to the Golden Age motel. Super experienced tourer Syd always stays there.
I go in and ask about a room. All they’ve got is budget rooms left, but I’m welcome to take my bike up there. The lady at the counter says, “Oh, you’ll fit right in. We’ve got a group of cyclists in tonight.”
I just laugh and say, “Oh, probably not. I’m pretty slow and scrappy.” She laughs – after all, I am standing there wearing a “I really like cows tshirt” and hiking shorts that are over 20-years-old, instead of full lycra with everything matching down to the shoelaces!
So I fork over $70 and then take the bike over to the outdoor, open metal staircase that leads to the second floor balcony. I remove the rear panniers and fork bags. And then I pick my beast of a bike up and carry it one step at a time up those steep, open metal stairs. I’m not afraid of heights, but it is actually a bit scary with gravity working against me and all.
Of course, I get to do this in front of the crowd of cyclists who are all sitting on the verandah relaxing. They call out, “be careful”, “oh, that’s hard”, and “she might need help!” as I teeter my way up the stairs. But I make it.
The budget room is too tiny for the bike, though, so I just leave it at the top of the internal stairs (which would have been much easier and safer to use if I’d been told about them!) in a little lobby area.
I go back out and have a chat to some of the cyclists. But they are all very rich Boomers from America and aren’t all that friendly. The tour goes from Sydney to Melbourne sorta via the mountains and then on to Hobart. They have a sag van with catered lunches and snacks and roofed accommodation every night.
I absolutely cannot imagine how expensive it would be to do a month-long supported tour!! Eating out twice a day! Then add in the airfares….! One guy from Chicago says his favourite part of the tour so far was seeing a field outside of Canberra that was full of kangaroos. Seriously. These folks have ridden the road from Thredbo to Khancoban, the Murray River Road along the upper Murray (my favourite sealed road), the Kiewa valley, the Great Alpine Road from Bright to Omeo… and he most liked a field of kangaroos?
I retire early. It has been a very long and pretty stressful day. I have, however, gotten four funny comments on my “I just really like cows” tshirt. I go down the hall to take a shower. The shower has been renovated recently, and there’s soap and shampoo in baskets.
But the tiny room is really something below ‘budget’. The double bed fills the entire room almost. There is a wall fan heater and a pedestal fan (no AC). The window is permanently propped open and there is no screen (thankfully, no mozzies come to find me). The room smells musty and there is a container of Damp Rid on the heater along with an air freshener block. Yeah, this is the reason I never stay in old hotels (mould is my kryptonite). But the sheets are clean, and the bed is not saggy. All of the staff I interacted with were super friendly. But would I stay here again for $70. No. Maybe the more expensive rooms with AC are better.
I aim the fan at me, slip under the sheet with Verne and Kermit and call it a day!
