2023-02-19 -38 142

Location

Out the front of a dairy farm nearish Timboon.

Participants

Stevage

Expedition

The why

I had been eyeing off the Warrnambool graticule for a long time, as it was the closest, most accessible never-hashed graticule to home - although still a few hundred kilometres away. But most of it is water, the rest is all boring flat farmland, and there are only two train stations, with inconvenient schedules. Each time I thought about mounting an expedition, I was put off by the logistics: it's pretty hard to take a train there, do a geohash, then catch a train back on the same day. And it's hard to stay overnight, because there are actually very few places to camp - see the bit about flat boring farmland. And then, many of the hashes lay deep inside a farm, raising the risk of travelling a long way to get to a hash that turned out not to be accessible.

So, I waited for a hash that was either especially convenient, or a time that I was especially motivated. And than that day came. Day 2 of a potential 4 day streak. Breaking a seeming monthslong drought of accessible geohashes in Melbourne, suddenly we had 3 in 4 days. The Sunday was the one day without one - so here was the motivation I needed to trek all the way out to the Warrnambool graticule and back.

Still recovering from a recent surgery, my doctor had said it was ok to ride a bike again. He probably wasn't thinking of an 85km geohash, but...I was.

Then I discovered that the trains to Warrnambool were being replaced by road coaches for part of the journey. V/Line in their ongoing antipathy towards cyclists tries hard to create anxiety for the bike-riding traveller, with ambiguous statements about whether bikes are allowed. But, my general experience has been that the coach drivers do allow them, so I went with it.

The when

Leaving a free classical music concert early the night before, I got up at 5am. I was intending to get the 6:55am train from Southern Cross, get to Terang at 10:20, and be back at Terang in time for the early afternoon train home.

But then I double checked the time tables, and realised this plan was impossible - there's no way I'd get to the hash and back in time. Instead, I'd have to catch the last train back at 6pm from Terang. I hadn't been to Terang before, but I was pretty sure this wasn't a place that a sensible person would intentionally spend 4 hours waiting for a train. The horrors. I nearly bailed on the whole plan, but told myself I could spend the first part of the journey working out a better plan, or just come back if I hated it that much.

Gritting my teeth, I rode out the door at 6, catching the 6:15 Southern Cross train from Brunswick. It seems a bit cheaty to not just ride the whole way, but it was impressively quick.

The ticket seller in Southern Cross reinforced the anxiety, refusing to sell me a ticket to Terang, because I might not be able to get on the coach. Sigh.

The ticket seller in Geelong upped the ante, telling me I probably wouldn't get on the coach, so I shouldn't buy a ticket until I was sure.

The "helpful" V/Line customer service rep at the coach stop re-raised the ante, telling me that I almost certainly wouldn't be allowed on, because "we don't normally allow bikes on the coach". And he threatened that if I did somehow, inexplicably inveigle myself onto this coach, I would almost certainly be stranded in Terang, where he strongly implied I would spend the rest of my days, rejected by each and every coach driver. I quietly seethed.

Finally the coach arrived. The driver spotted the two bikes wanting to get on, and immediately said "bikes first!", and opened the luggage compartment for us. I glared at the customer service rep, who was sadly facing away from me, ran to get a ticket, and got on the coach.

The how

Once in Terang, I sized up the town. It was very quiet. Sunday. Definitely not a place to linger too long. I tried to find some snacks, and settled on cheesy bacon rolls and bananas. Classic.

The road south was very straight. Looking at my GPS trace later, I saw the huge straight line and thought the GPS recording had failed, but no...it's just really that straight.

An anxious thought at the back of my mind kept telling me the point was going to be in a grain silo, inaccessible. But I started to pass a number of farms that looked just like the one on StreetView. That wasn't a grain silo, but a feed hopper for a dairy farm. And I'd be able to clamber underneath it if needed.

Suddenly - blackberries! The bane any of any geohasher, blackberry bushes across a path spell misery with their insidious thorns and tripping canes. But these were beside the road, heavily laden with fruit. I couldn't resist. I stopped and had a few more. Then a few more. Each time I tried to get back on the bike, I spotted an even better clump. Handfuls of delicious blackberries went down the gullet. I tried not to think about the poison that they'd probably been sprayed with, but decided that if this was to be my demise, it would be worth it.

Further on, I stopped for sunscreen. This apparently upset a couple of local dogs, who became increasingly agitated, barking loudly and coming closer. I started up, which upset them more. Now they were running alongside me, barking aggressively. One of them grabbed my pannier - I felt the bike suddenly slow down for a moment before it let go.

It did it again. Now I was properly concerned. I sped up. It did it again. The dog to my left was right next to my foot. What could I do but ride and hope for the best? I rode and hoped for the best. Eventually they dropped off.

Now I had an even stronger reason not to come back this way.

Suddenly I was at the point. The feed hopper was there, looking like every other dairy farm, but...more unloved? The grass was long, and somehow it all looked a bit disused. Great. I stomped through the surely snake-infested grass, next to the hopper, and quickly nabbed the hash. Whew. Graticule unlocked!

The what next

The obvious plan was to head east to Timboon, a nice little town I'd been to once on a cycle tour long ago. So I did the obvious.

In Timboon, I made a beeline for the cute little cafe in a distillery I remembered from years ago. But in the intervening years it had become extremely fancy. The lunch options were all "share plates" starting at $28. I was looking for something more in the $5 range. Very awkwardly I informed the waitress of my error, and slunk out, and found solace over a vegetarian tart and a coffee at a cafe more suited to a man of my station in life.

It was getting pretty sunny. On to the Camperdown-Timboon rail trail, in the wrong direction. But it was shady, and full of dilapidated trestle bridges and greenery. I was thrilled.

At Cobden, a couple of wrong turns led me off the rail trail and onto the road, which I was secretly pleased about - the trail was bumpy and I was tiring rapidly. And my backside was feeling the effects of having been nowhere in a bike seat in nearly 2 months. Ow.

A few climbs, and my 85km journey to to Camperdown was complete. The food options were even more dire than Terang. I settled for some fruits and a drink.

The coach driver was of course extremely friendly and helpful, not even commenting on my bike as he opened the luggage compartment and jovially told me not to worry about buying a ticket. "Hop aboard!" So I did.