Granny by Pushi around in Australia. Hermine Stampa-Rabe

I had put the end of my sleeping bag into a pocket. Therefore my feet became wet. Thus I put down it outdoors on my bicycle in such a way that the wind can dry it.

      Yesterday under the board this spider already hung. Whether it is toxic, I do not know. It hangs still expectantly under its net and waits for new food. I do a big curve around this board. From now all boards or benches are suspicious to me. Everywhere such a little animal can lurk. But I will still get used to it. Nevertheless, the people here also live with it – why I not also?

      Drawn with new clothes completely, I return to my tent and pack everything on my bicycle. And when I want to lay the round, blue cool box on my porter, occurs to me that I cotransport 2 l of water in it still since Perth. Why, actually? Nevertheless, the water was intended for the Nullarbor. And, nevertheless, this area lies, fortunately, already behind me.

      And over the day I drink at most 1 ½ l. Why do I still struggle under a load, actually, of it? I get out the water bag and water with it a tree. Unusual easily the round, blue cool box can be laid on my porter. Now I will put in it all my food. I then I can get at this better in the breaks.

      Thus I take the street to Renmark under my wheels with the beaming morning sun and 16 ° C. The street is quite wavy. But on account of my baggage relief I can come uphill pleasantly easily. Pulling the bicycle helmet deeply in front in the forehead, the sun does not blind me. It curls up excellently. Waikerie is surrounded by endless wine plantations. I stop again to have a look at the grapes. Deep-blue! I take a photo of them and go on. Later I stop again to see whether here hang yellow grapes. No, also deep-blue. I nibble a small berry of it. It melts as sweet as sugar and juicy on my tongue! A whole grape walks in my pannier for the evening. Without bad conscience on account of many grapes which hang there on every wine plant I cycle happily further.

      In a place I find a shop, in which tires are sold. This reminds me of my brother Helmut, who was the master by profession of cars. Therefore, I know that here intelligent and vigorous men exist. I stop and push my bicycle in the big foyer.

      A man sits in his open office and looks completely surprised at me who stands with my bicycle helmet on the head and the loaded bicycle in the hall. He comes with expression to me. And then I explain him my bad luck and show him my lowrider suspension which is twisted to the right in the front wheel. Only 1 cm still exists between my traversing wheel and the metal curve.

      Quickly I take the small panniers and the handlebar bag from the bicycle and leave to him my bicycle. He does not need long to know what is to be done against it. Immediately he pushes the bicycle in the next hall in which his colleague is occupied with a big trucker wheel, asks him to come, to knee down in such a way that the front wheel is got caught tightly between his knees and turns on top my handlebar.

      And suddenly my lowrider suspension sits again properly!!!! A miracle!!! I illuminate both men and thank them. For them it was only one small change in their work, and they have helped me with pleasure. From now I can step on again with the best knowledge and conscience fully in the pedals without being afraid that sometime suddenly the wheel is blocked by the lowrider suspension. A great feeling!

      After some time I am pointed out to a good photo possibility. Quite expectantly I cycle further and search it. It is the Murray River who flows under one and later along another bridge. I lean my bicycle against the bridge at the railing, walk at the balustrade and perpetuate this legendary river in my camera. On a side an at least 20 m high sienna-red cliff wall rises. Dead trees like from an avenue stand on the other side of the bridge in the water.

      Thus I further roll on. Predominantly at least on one side vines are to be seen. The other side is covered either with wild, untouched nature or shows stubble fields.

      In this manner the road trains do not come to conflicts and can simply go straight ahead. However, every now and then it is honked before. Thus I cycle against Renmark.

      Keeping a lookout after a caravan park, I penetrate on and on into this town known for the Murray River. But I do not want to go on the first caravan park because he lies in the interior. I inquire in a service station whether there is here still the second caravan park. Yes, there it is. In addition I should go on. Beyond the place he is on the river.

      When I reach it and announce myself, I should pay per night $ 39. And in this place I wanted to spend two nights! This exceeds my budget. Thus I turn round and would like to look around for a backpacker hotel. Yes, there should be two. I find the first one. It is unoccupied. I follow the tip after the second and find it actual. First it is asked on the phone: „You are actual 75 years?“

      „Yes, this is correct. I am on the move by bicycle here in Australia.“

      „You can come.“

      All kinds of young people populate it. A bed is assigned to me in a 4-bed room. Both girls, both from Korea, remove their things of both empty beds for me. But I still leave all baggage outdoors on my bicycle, take only my small notebook and sit down in the day room to answer my correspondence.

      Here I read that mine yesterday from Gudrun in Waikerie taken up video stands already in facebook and was also already seen by some. Unfortunately, my English speaking friends can understand nothing of it. With the next time I must have immediately at hand the translation.

      A part of the youngsters just present here have gone by car into the town for shopping. I was also asked to join them. But I did my sport today. Because I booked for two nights, tomorrow I can sleep long. Tomorrow I would like to look at the harbour and at the paddle wheelers they usual shall be here. From them I wish to take photos.

       24.01.2013: Rest day in Renmark: 0 km

      Now I buy for me this small rolled up medium blue fleece cover with the Australian flag on it.

      On the way I had taken a photo of three young Germans at the work and had promised to send this photo home to their parents. Thus I lack a photo shop in which I receive the photos from my photo chip. Yes, there is this shop also in BIG W. On the back of the photos I write the address and besides to the parents small news that it goes well to them. On the postcards come stamps and fly to Germany.

      The way to the post is long. It lies at the river loop. The sun burns pitilessly down. But I carry a hat with wide brim. Beside the post I have a look at the roses becoming a little bit withered. Just the house owner comes out of the door. I ask him whether these roses are his which smell so delightfully.

      “Yes", he answers. „This time, unfortunately, we have the hottest summer as long as I can think back. The sun burns so much on the roses that the petals begin from the outside to roll inside.“

      Arriving again at my accommodation, I find again there the young people who spend the night here. One of them comes from Hannover, the only German here. He tells me: „This backpacker hotel is inhabited, actually, only by the young workers from all over the world. In the morning we are fetched, brought to our job and driven back afterwards again. I am already since the beginning of August, 2012 here and have saved money. Soon I want to have a look first of all at Australia. And if the money should be to an end, I want to enter again into the working process. Thus everybody makes it here.“

      While I sit here and write, the television runs before some of the young people who consume her self-made food and watch, besides, the sketches in the TV program.

      Tomorrow it should go further in the direction of Mildura. Because the distance is for one day too long for me, I will start and roll to the middle of the distance to the camping site which is marked in the map and sleep there. Water should exist.

       25.01.2013: Renmark – Lake Cullulleraine: 87 km

      At 5.00 am I stand it no more in the bed. Not to wake up both girls from Korea, I get up quite carefully and disappear in the bathroom.

      In the kitchen I come to the conversation with a young Dutchman, Nick, who stays every year in May with the KIEL WEEK in Germany as a Skipper of a traditional sailing boat in Kiel. He speaks perfectly German. I ask him if he stays next year again in Kiel to announce himself please to me.

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