New Day Rising – Day 23

Jimmy Iversons CG to Wentworth River

Gunaikurnai Country

17 March 2025

The dust has settled. The air is cool. The wind has died down. The clouds give way to intermittent rays of sun. The day feels fresh and clean. The strong cold front has brought the first indications that summer may eventually, someday, end.

I’m in no hurry to pack up. I stay in the sleeping bag until 8.30am. I’m going to hang around for a while and let the roads dry out a little bit.

I pull the fly off the tent and spread it out on the ground so the inner tent and the fly can both dry. I peel off the painter’s drop cloth and take it over to some fairy lights strung between some trees after some campers left them behind. It is a perfect little clothesline for drying out the plastic sheet. I go inspect the bike. It has weathered all the rain quite well. I clean the chain and relube it. 

I cook up some rice and lentils around 10.30am so that we’ll have plenty of energy for the climbing to come. As the puffy clouds bunch and then diverge and the wind dies off, I head out about 11am. 

Today is a short ride that won’t be short on climbing. We’re going to haul ourselves out of the Dargo River catchment and drop down into the Wentworth River catchment. This will set us up to do a bigger climb and longer ride up to 1200 metres tomorrow. 

The road has dried out pretty well after 8 solid hours of rain yesterday afternoon and evening and 4 hours of showers overnight. The road flicks up a bit of grit, but it is not muddy.

We follow the river upstream, closely following it to start. The road is bound by the river and a steep hill rising just at the outer road edge. The trees hang over the road and provide dappled shade. We weave through the potholes and hug the edge where it’s corrugated.

There are a few people camping at Ollie’s Jumpup, the last 2WD campsite on this road. The jumpup is, indeed, a jump up in metres rather quickly. I make it up the steep short climb, but there are a couple moments of tyre spinning where I think I might not.

We roll along the valley wall, drop back down to the floodplain and then have another short, steep and very eroded climb back up the valley wall again to go around private property on the floodplain. Grunt. Grunt. 

This gives us a nice downhill across the river and to the start of the 6 km climb. I rode this the other direction in 2023. This section of Jones Road was atrocious that day with shin-deep erosion lines crossing the road, tons of loose rock and thick, sandy sections. They had even put a sign at the top of the road saying 4WD only.

But today, the road is in great shape and only shows signs of erosion and thick, loose rock where the grade is over 10 percent. 

The road follows the edge of a small valley, weaving in and out of the contours on the hillside above the small creek way down below. I get down in granny and spin it out. Some of the stacked topo lines on the map had me fearing that I might have to get off and push here and there, but I manage to ride it all. 

I aim for a wide spot in the road as a 4WD comes up behind me around the 3 km mark. They pass by with no effort at all with their internal combustion and are long gone quickly. For the rest of the climb, I think about just where they might be at that point – how far they’ve been able to travel as I painstakingly make my way up that climb at 4kph. 

I take another break at about the 5 km mark. I was ready for a break about 250 metres sooner, but there was a dead wallaby on the road right where I wanted to pause. So, not wanting to hang out with the flies and stink, I pushed on.

Finally, we reach the crest between two knobs. We then have a couple kays of gentle climbing and flatness through open forest and little bits of distant views before we start the descent into the Wentworth catchment. 

Jones Road is in good condition up top, even in its steep drops. I fly downhill and try to fling myself up the next hill as we rollercoaster along a spur. But there are a couple that I have to get off and push. 

The views are fabulous though. We can see the ridge with Baldhead Road where we are going tomorrow. We can trace Groves Gap Road and Birregun Road that we did in 2023. We can see all the little creek indents as they fan out into shallower indents at the top of the catchment. We drop down through 300 million years of erosion. 

Dark clouds gather and push against the divide but do not drop any rain. At one point, I look across to the other side of the catchment and see what looks like a nearly vertical track heading up a hill. “Oh, shit!! Is that our road? Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?!!”

The track appears to be in line with this one, and I know we have a pretty straight shot out of the river in the morning. This side of Jones Road does have some steep stuff. I’d probably have to push bits of it if I were going up instead of down. And I know that the other side, heading east, has more tightly spaced topo lines than this side. But oh my god, that track over there looks insane! 

I look at the map. Maybe that’s Pheasants Creek track or maybe it’s an old firebreak. But I don’t have long to contemplate the future, because the surface goes to shit and I have to concentrate on the road instead. I file that concern into the “worries for tomorrow” folder and concentrate on the crappy gravel at hand. It is that really thick, loose white stuff that forms drifts. I think the best way to describe it is skiing on pumice. This is the same stuff that was on part of Birregun Road in 2023. And on a downhill, you really do feel like you are skiing your bike through a rocky powder. 

We make it down the side of the exposed hill on all that soft stuff and only lose the backend a few times. It’s always invigorating to get a bit squirrely and then feel the rear tyre catch. We manage to stay upright and then find our only flat spot on this entire road – the approach to/from the flat bridge over the river. 

The river is running high from all the rain. It slides effortlessly between arched and angled trees. The current is swift and silent, but I can hear a gentle cascade in the distance. The water is running muddy though – the water filter is not going to appreciate that.

There is a big piece of earthmoving equipment that has been working down Waynes Track parked at the junction. Waynes Track is soft, and all the bushy stuff has been pushed over. That track climbs up above the river and there are two small areas to camp down that way, but they aren’t all that attractive. 

However, there is another informal clearing just before Jones Road starts to climb again. It’s down a short rocky track, but it is pleasant. There are big cassia bushes around, but there’s some nice little acacias providing shade (which is not needed today, finally) in one corner of the clearing and large gums provide some atmosphere. It’s a good spot and will do us nicely.

After filtering water, I sit in the sun on a log that’s leftover firewood from the last occupants. I study the map for tomorrow. I don’t have any set plans – where we end up will be dictated by where we can get water. That’s a theme on these bush rides!

I wear my winter beanie and tights under my hiking pants. I wear my puffy jacket for the first time – it has only been used as a pillow so far. Then we get tucked down in the bag. As soon at the sun slides beneath the hill, it gets chilly quick. Yay, Antarctic cold front!

Around 2am, I hear a 4WD downshifting down the curvy road to the east. Shit. I am never too fond of the sorts of people who show up at 2am in a 4WD ute. I rarely feel much trepidation in the bush, but I am very far away from anything here, and I feel quite vulnerable. I reach into the pannier and pull out my bike pump and my cooking knife. I unsheath the knife and leave both next to the door. But really, I’m relying on the decency of humanity way, way out here alone in the bush.

The 4WD goes past the little entrance road. Phew. It then stops near the other track or near the bridge. The engine turns off. Shit. I pull my beanie up so my ears have full hearing range. I lie still and listen. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Eventually I fall asleep. I have vivid dreams through the night about being chased and not being able to see where I am.