The Home Stretch
17th - 22nd August
26778 - 27147 kms

After a troule-free lap around Oz, it was the final few kilometres to the ferry terminal in Port Melbourne that nearly killed me! As the evening light began to fade into darkness, Lutzy led the way on his red racing bike, while I lagged some distance behind, all loaded up and struggling to keep him in sight. At one stage he slipped out of view, leading to an interesting game of cat-and-mouse around the busy Melbourne streets - as lights, smells and noises dazzled my senses... During that half-hour of nervous, adrenaline-pumping action, we'd weaved our way through peak-hour traffic and at the end of it found ourselves at the edge of Port Philip Bay. There in front of us - lit up like a Christmas tree - was my lift back to Tassie, the Spirit of Tasmania. Finally, after 18 months, I was heading home!

Dazed by lights, noises and smells, this photo isn't far off what I was seeing with my own eyes as I tried not to lose Lutzy in Melbourne's peak-hour traffic

"Ahhh, good evening Mr. Mann," said the guy at the ticket booth as I rode up to the front of the queue. "Lovely evening for a bike ride... here's your ticket, we hope you enjoy your journey". Magic! No ID required (I guess the bike and trailer was good enough). And with that, I rolled on to the ship, parked my bike in between a couple of trucks, and proceeded to search for the comfiest couch on board. It didn't take me long to track it down, and well, there I stayed for the entire crossing.

A million different emotions were racing through me that night as the ship rolled gently across Bass Strait. It was all beginning to sink in... I'd completed the lap around Oz, left the mainland, and was less than a week away from finishing this epic journey. I was both excited and sad at the same time. Excited to be heading home, but sad that the journey was coming to an end. I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of how nice it would be to wake up in Tasmania... and lo and behold... the following morning I did!

Lining up for the unsustainable portion of my sustainable trip around Oz

Finding a parking spot on the lower level wasn't really a problem

The cold, still dawn of winter in Devonport

The screams of joy were loud and proud as I rolled off the ramp and onto Tasmanian soil again. "I'm back, I'm back!!" I yelled to everyone in the Spirit of Tasmania arrival lounge - of course, none of them knew who I was, and wondered how I'd been let onto the ship in the first place, let alone let off again and let loose in Tasmania. Luckily Kat was there to calm me down - giving me a big bear hug and squeezing all those built-up tears out of me. As they splashed onto the Tasmanian ground beneath my feet, all I could think was how glad I was to be home!

After breakky with Kat at Devonport's least lavish bakery, it was off across the lush, fertile, rolling countryside... Launceston-bound. I was looking forward to getting there, catching up with friends and rellies - in particular the grandparents, who had been keeping a close eye on my progress since day 1 of the ride. And just to make me pedal extra hard and fast, there were a bunch of mates from Hobart coming up to have a beer with me that night - and take me rafting the next day. What a welcome!

If there's one thing I discovered after my 18 months of cycling around Australia, it's that Tasmania is definitely NOT flat. Stopping at the Wesley Vale shop to ask the best road to take to Launnie, I was told the Exeter road would be the best one, as it only had one small hill. One small hill?!! Yeah right! One small hill that went for 60 kms!

Tassie apple, Tassie cows...

Wesley Vale scenery

The Tamar Valley, coming in to Launceston

Launceston - Tassie's 2nd largest city

My grandparents, with the map they've been using to follow my journey since day one. They were proud as punch when I arrived at their doorstep to help them connect the final bit of red wool on the map.

From Launceston it was a 2-day ride south to Hobart... if I went in a straight line. But that's no fun, now, is it? Deciding on one final challenge, I headed south-west out of Launceston and up to the Central Plateau, on the highest altitude highway in the state - the Lake Highway. It would take me an extra day, but it meant I would be cycling beneath huge mountains of dolerite, alongside pristine rivers, through gorgeous groves of cool temperate rainforest - and across the eastern edge of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. A sign warned me of FROST ICE and SNOW, and I knew I was in for at least some cold, definitely a bit of wet and possibly even some snow. It had been 2 years since I'd been in proper winter weather... I was looking forward to this!

Lunch stop in Bishopsbourne - carb loading for the climb up to 1210m

Instructions on getting up to the Central Plateau:

Go past the FROST ICE SNOW sign...

... turn left at the cow...

... swing by Bob Brown's house...

... beneath Dry's Bluff...

... past the promiscuous sheep...

... over the river...

... stop for a drink...

... then climb up a really, really long and steep hill...

... avoiding log trucks, go through a few forestry plantations...

... and just when you think you're nearly there - you'll see another mountain to climb, which means you're not...

When the forest begins to shrink in size and suddenly you're surrounded by low shrubs, you're just about there...

... and when you see this sign you've only got another 5 kms or so and you're at the highest point on the Lake Highway - 1210 m above sea level... and it's all downhill from there!

I actually didn't know that the Lake Highway went up to 1210 m, and was surprised when I saw the sign telling me that's how far I'd just climbed. It was a cold night camping up there on the Plateau - it blew so hard during the night that it kept me awake, wondering how long it would be before the wind picked me and my tent up and blew me back to Launceston. I heard it snow a couple of times during the night, and it was quite exciting to wake up in a field of white in the morning. Way too cold to get out though, and as excited as I was, I didn't manage to crawl out of my sleeping bag until 10am! I had a lot to look forward to, though - having passed the highest point on the road meant I had a lot of downhill coming up. Between Miena and Bothwell (where I stayed on my last night before Hobart), I saw my speedo go over 60 kph three times... yeehaa!!!

"Brrrrrrrrrrrrr....."

Liawenee: the coldest town in Tasmania. It was -8°C there on the night that I camped on the Plateau.

Riding alongside Great Lake, on the Lake Highway

The last night of the OzByBike expedition was spent in the historic town of Bothwell. It was dark by the time I arrived, no caravan park, no camping ground, not even a bit of bush nearby where I could pitch my tent. What to do? I nearly camped in the playground, but then found a spot around back of the public toilets, which was a bit more hidden away. My last night on the road, and there I was - not the most extravagant of campsites, I thought. When I woke in the morning and opened my tent to see what my surroundings looked like, I could hardly believe my eyes... not only was I camped in a gravel carpark, next to the public toilets, but there were half a dozen gravestones outside my tent door. I'd camped on the edge of the cemetery. Definitely not up there in terms of scenic beauty, but certainly a campsite I won't forget!

I woke in the morning feeling cold, and breathing steam out of my mouth. Another cold morning, and everything was covered in frost (including the bike), which meant another sleep-in. Bewdy! But this time I knew what to expect, and had actually already set up my stove and the coffee pot just outside my door - coffee in bed!

Suddenly I realised something - this was it... this was the last day of my ride... I would soon be packing up my tent and sleeping bag into my pack, for the last time. Loading my trailer for the last time. Hooking it onto the bike for the last time. Clipping the handle bar bag on for the last time. Strapping Shroomie on (nice and tight) for the last time. All these things that had become routine - part and parcel of every day - would no longer happen. In the cold, frosty car park, I let it all soak in - as the morning sun and my super strong coffee tried to defrost my bones, from the outside in, and the inside out.

The Bothwell urban camp

Trying to warm the bones, Bothwell

Frozen drink bottle, Bothwell

Once on the road, it didn't take me long to warm up - and I'm sure it had a lot to do with all my smiling and yelling and singing and general carrying on... I was an excited little camper! In fact I didn't even notice any hills (though I'm sure there were some), because my adrenaline and excitement levels were through the roof. The final day!!!

At Pontville, Mt. Wellington came into view. This 1270m-tall mountain of dolerite rises abruptly from the Derwent River, and forms a spectacular backdrop for the city of Hobart - a true icon, and a sight that always makes me feel at home . So you can imagine my reaction when it appeared on the horizon, only 50 kms from the finishing line. I'd told the folks back home I'd be arriving at 5:30pm, but here I was - only 2 1/2 hours away from Hobart - and it wasn't even midday yet! I wanted to get there, I was sooooo looking forward to arriving at the Cenotaph, crossing the finish line, and seeing friends and family... but I had to wait until 5:30. Aaarrrghhhh! It was torturous!!!

I'd invited people to come and join in for the final dash to the finish line: a leisurely 5-km ride along the Hobart cycle track, which would finish at the Cenotaph - the place where I farewelled my home town over 18 months ago. I'd been planning this encounter for months, and the closer I got to that 5-km mark, the more intense the nerves became. I was so close, I could hardly contain myself. I was wearing the biggest grin in the world... and it only grew bigger, as I arrived at the rendez-vous point and waited for the crew to arrive.

It was a work day, and so I wasn't expecting many people there to ride the final 5 kms with me. I knew there would be at least 4 coming to join me, and it was exciting enough to have those there. But whilst waiting for 5pm to come round, the punters just kept on coming... Geno, Kelbs, Jared, Zain, Kristy, Grace, Rich, Andy, Ned, Narna, Dydes, Rusty, Ma, Rosie, Al, Simon, Ted, Bev and Matt all came out - not not only welcome me back home, but to help me across the finish line. I felt like an absolute superstar.

Now I've had plenty of exciting and emotional moments over the last 18 months, but those final 5 kms stood way out on their own. Of the 27,147 kms I had cycled throughout this expedition, it is those final few that I will remember the most.

The dreams I'd been having about cycling in to Hobart came true at about 5:40pm that day, when I was escourted by the support crew to the official OzByBike finishing line. Meanwhile, about 25 others had gathered there to greet me, applauding loudly as I completed a lap of honour around the Cenotaph. A few more tears escaped from my excited little eyes. The end of OzByBike, and the end of a massive educational journey of self-discovery and life-changing experiences.

My wheels came to rest in front of all those proud faces in the crowd. My watery eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing, my heart couldn't believe what it was feeling, and my smile couldn't have been any bigger.

That day was the most emotional day in my life, not to mention one of the most memorable. It was worth every kilometre, every puncture, every breath of headwind, every corrugation, and every minute under the hot desert sun - to experience the incredibly eclectic mix of emotions I felt that day.

After stuttering a few words of thanks to the crowd, it didn't take long before I was back at my local watering hole, with a cold beer in my hand (yep, they had to drag me down there)... - another moment I'd been excited about for the past 18 months. CHEERS!

I used to think I was 'lucky' to be enjoying life so much and having such a good time of it. But you know what? That's nonsense - luck has nothing to do with it. All you need to do is believe in yourself. YOU create your own opportunities, (or your own 'luck', if that's what you want to call it), and as long as you believe in yourself, you can do some amazing things with your life, and turn your dreams into reality. Dreams are like living organisms. They teach us to live, to look at the sky and wonder, they get us excited, and make us smile. They should be nurtured carefully, and above all, they must not be ignored. If you have a dream - no matter how small it may be - don't EVER be afraid to go and chase it. Life is too precious.

And so the final chapter ends for the OzByBike diary... but I'd like to just say one more thing before signing off - to you, the reader and armchair adventurer, wherever you are in the world. A huge thanks to you for following the expedition, for your messages on the guest book, for your warm wishes through the universe, and for being a part of my dream. I hope I've helped you to re-consider your means of transport as you go about your daily lives. But more importantly, I hope I've encouraged you to identify your dreams, and to develop the courage to go out there and chase them. Happy days to you all.

Day by day...
17th August: Devonport to Launceston (via Wesley Vale, Exeter)
18th, 19th August: Rest Days, Launceston
20th August: Launceston to Central Plateau Bush Camp (via Prospect, Carrick, Bishopsbourne, Liffey)
21st August: Central Plateau Bush Camp to Bothwell (via Breona, Liawenee, Miena, Steppes)
22nd August: Bothwell to Hobart (via Kempton, Pontville, Brighton, Glenorchy)