Old Bum On A Bike: Wingham To Buladelah!

Wingham is a small town on the Mid North Coast of New South Wales. It's history derives from the old timber days and over the years has moved into cattle. Wingham is also my home town, it is where I did most of my growing up. High school, rugby league, cycling, motor cycling, camping, I did it all there, even a little trouble.
The town still boasts a population of only around three thousand people and not a lot has changed since I have left. It still has that small town feel.

I had the absolute pleasure of staying with an old friend whilst here and it was great to catch up with other mates over the weekend's shenanigans. Getting out for a few beers, watching the old footy team play against long time rivals, and just kicking back and talking, catching up on the years since we all last were hanging out.

Monday morning came around all too soon and it was time to head off southbound once again. Instead of travelling the Pacific Hwy I opted, as usual, for a more subtle and relaxing approach to my day's route. I would head down through Burrell Creek to Krambach, then down to Buladelah where my plan was to free camp by the Myall River.

The bike repacked, a bit of a service done I was off heading out along Gloucester Rd. Unfortunately my excitement was short lived as the rear tyre deflated and I was on the side of the road fixing another flat. I had a small leak as I was heading to Wingham and thinking the problem was fixed...well we all know what thought did...
It appears that I had missed a small piece of wire that had lodged itself through the tyre.

Wire removed, tyre fixed I was on my again with a rejuvenation of my excitement. I hadn't been out this way for years, these areas were my old stomping grounds of years gone by. It wasn't long before I was about to head across the Manning River at Kundibakh. The old bridge is one we used to ride out to and jump off but it was no longer there. Instead a new wider concrete version stood in it's place.

The road was peaceful with minimal traffic and although there was no shoulder it felt safe with the few motorists that past slowing down and giving me room, many with a friendly wave. The road was still bitumen at this point and I didn't even know if I would ride on gravel. Passing through Burrell Creek and into Kramback it was still well before lunch. I stopped at a small cafe, had something to eat and topped up the caffeine levels.

Leaving the restful cafe I headed down Firefly Road and made my way south yet again. Although I had lived in this area for many years I didn't recall ever travelling this way before. The road was narrow but with no traffic, the scenery magnificent and the landscape undulating. Cattle wandered to their fences to check out this new found thing that was pedalling by, with many following down the road as far as they could.

It wasn't long before I was at my next intersection making my way up Wallanbah Road and then onto Bunya Road. Now my dream came true, gravel road. Bunya Road was narrow and wound it's way along the sides of foothills. The foothills soon turned into small mountains and I climbed, and climbed. Once I finished climbing I climbed some more for good measure.

The road slowly narrowed as it meandered along it's path. It wasn't long that it was just a single lane of road, and with no cars on it. This was the stuff dreams were made of, wandering serenely along a mountain road with spectacular views, and by the way...it was far from rough, the complete opposite.

Looking down over green valleys, shadowed by blue mountain ranges as a back drop I chose to walk a lot. Not because of the hills. Even though steep in parts they were more long and continuous, but very rideable. It was the scenery, I just wanted to walk and soak it in.

I came to a dilemma in the road. My planned route that I had mapped via Komoot and uploaded onto my Garmin wanted to take me another way. It wanted to take me via a mountain bike path that I eventually found the sign for. Now...the mountain bike trail was straight up and over. I had been caught like this before at Girraween crossing the the border from Queensland to New South Wales.

I was able to check Google Maps, and although there was no service I was able to see the road I was on, Manning Hill Road. It went around the mountain rather than straight up over it. Yes, it was still a continuing gradual climb but was far more enticing then pushing the bike and trailer up and over.

Ride a little, walk a little, I wasn't in any rush. I knew the time was passing by but there were so many options to camp it didn't worry me if I didn't make it to Buladelah. Actually it was the exact opposite, I was starting to look for a place to camp just for the sake of camping in such a wonderful place. After all, what was another day.

Up a bit further, around a few bends and I decided to step of and walk a little. After getting off the bike I heard a car and a motor bike coming my way around the bend. Now the road was rather narrow and I didn't want the driver or the rider, whoever was first, to get a surprise. I stepped down into the deep rocky laden drain on the side of the road to give both vehicles plenty of room. They came around the corner, saw me, slowed and waved, then continued on their way.

I stepped up onto the road. I hadn't pulled the bike down into the gully, I held it up on the roadside as I stepped down. As I stepped up again, a large rock rolled from under my right foot...and twang!!!
It was only several months prior I had an arthroscopy on my right knee. A torn medial meniscus removed, some gout and arthritis tidied up had the knee feeling new, until now.

I almost dropped the bike which would have landed on top of me. Anyway I struggled to regain my balance and eventually stepped up out of the gully. I was in pain instantly and immediately thought, and shouted, "Shit".

I still had a fair way to go to get to Buladelah which I wasn't worried about before. But now it was different. I had a new challenge, a new decision ahead of me. I walked for a while trying to walk off the pain. It did ease, but only slightly. Now the new dilemma...do I just find a place to camp and rest. I had an emergency ice pack in the first aid kit. I could just go a little further, find a place and set up. I could tend to my wounds and hopefully be OK in the morning.

Then the questioning doubt set in. I had no phone service, I was in the middle of nowhere, all day I had only seen a motorbike and a car. What if I awoke in the morning only to find I couldn't move my knee? I had plenty of food, but only enough water for one night.

It wasn't much longer and I had hit the peak of the mountain. It was mainly down hill from now, or at least I hoped. I bit the bullet and decided to continue to Buladelah. Pushing through to evening sounded a better option than being stuck somewhere. That's exactly what I did.

To my surprise my hope was founded. It was largely down hill. Yes there were uphills and it was here I felt the pain of the earlier injury. Whilst the hills remained rather light where I could lightly spin upwards all was OK. But as soon as they got too steep, it hurt. It was tough, because it hurt to get off and push as well.

The sun was well and truly going down. It was winter after all and it gets dark earlier. Onward I continued, slowly making my way to town with head light and tail light ablaze. Cars weren't an issue although a couple did pass my way. Eventually I was back on bitumen.

Not far to go now there were a couple of decent climbs that sent the nerve receptors into a panic. I made it up eventually and then the comforting sign of street lights. It wasn't long before I was in town and smelling the food being cooked at the local pub. I headed down to the free camp where I had planned to camp. Man oh man, talk about reminiscent of the crowd at a Big Day Out. It was jammed packed with every variety of camper van and caravan one could imagine. I did find a small bit of gravel available, but it looked like someone had emptied their lunch box on it.

I was pretty well spent. I knew I couldn't go any further to next free area so I did a quick google search, yes I had service again, and found a nice, quiet and cheap motel. Booked in, unpacked roughly and comfy I was straight into a hot shower. After that I unpacked the first aid kit and smashed the cold pack onto my knee. Some tinned baked beans and a couple of anti-inflammations tablets were dinner that night.

The next morning I awoke and after a rather restless night. It appears I may have made the right decision as it was rather stiff and difficult to get around. I spent an extra day at Buladelah simply because I wanted to make sure everything was alright. I went to the Chemist (pharmacy) and purchased a few more emergency ice packs. The motel manager was kind enough to give me a shitload of ice to use through out the day. By the the end of the day all seemed OK, and it was all systems go to head further south the next morning.