crossing the canning Story and photos by Jakub Postrzygacz I pedaled out of the sleepy town of Halls Creek in western Australia early in the morn- ing of September 1, 2005, full of energy and high hopes. The Canning Stock Route, the route I was attempting to ride, starts with no signposts or warn- ings. It was hard to believe that the faint path fading away in the barren land before me would emerge more than 1,200 miles later on the opposite corner of the continent. Seven hours later I was cringing in the Canning in a convoy of specially prepared faint shade of my bike, trembling from vehicles. Even today, anyone wishing to overheating and dehydration. Good judg- complete the trek must organize a substan- ment of your own capabilities is the result tial fuel drop at the route’s halfway point. of experience, but gaining that experience Many attempts to bicycle the track with is often the result of bad judgment. I was motorized backup had failed, and nobody learning fast — with many painful lessons had ever tried to ride it unsupported. I still to come. wanted to be the first. In March 2003, I went to a presentation It took me nearly two years to get ready given by National Geographic journalists for the challenge. The most complex task who had completed an epic automobile was creating a bike that, fully loaded with expedition across the Canning. My eyes supplies, could cover great distances across were riveted to images of a land so differ- a land considered impossible to ride. There ent, harsh, and merciless that I couldn’t were many experienced and passionate resist imagining myself biking through its people from around the world involved in mysterious terrain. After the slide show, the project, but it wasn’t until the guys I asked the travelers if it was possible to from Surly decided to join in that I truly bicycle the route. They burst out laughing believed in the success of the expedition. and said, “Forget about it!” Although their Pugsley model was still a The Canning is the longest historic prototype, I decided to stake my trip on stock route on the planet. If laid along the No swimsuit required. Jakub enjoys a rare oasis in the middle of the desert. its success. With its monstrous four-inch- West Coast of the U.S., it would extend sand. It was marked out 100 years ago by tions were so harsh and casualties were so wide tires capable of working at incredibly from Los Angeles to Seattle. It winds Australian surveyor Alfred Canning as an high that the track never truly served its low pressures, the bike could float through through the most inhospitable areas of the alternative route to drive cattle from the purpose and soon was forgotten. deep sand and tackle rough terrain bet- Australian Outback, crosses four deserts, green pastures of Kimberly south to Perth, In 1968, a group of surveyors for the ter than anything I had tried before. In a and climbs innumerable hills of steep away from tick-infested shores. The condi- first time drove the complete length of the potential first in the history of cycling, my machine had interchangeable wheels with an emergency cog fixed to a 135-milimeter front hub, so I could keep moving if I dam- aged my rear gearing (a comforting feature considering how many people have died in deserts when their vehicles ceased to function). I had my bike, but I also needed a way to haul large amounts of weight over desert terrain. Then I found the Extrawheel, a new single-wheel trailer made in Poland. With some modification, it could roll Trendsetter. They’ll now have to change this sign to read “Motorists and bicyclists …” on the same style of fat tire as the bike clothes or even a toothbrush. Desert, speckled with termite mounds and and was equipped with four independent That first evening, as the heat ebbed and dense shrubs. The biggest surprise was bladders holding more than ten gallons the air cooled, I met an aborigine coming the astonishing diversity of the landscape. of water in total. My panniers were filled back from a hunt. “Heading to Wiluna? There were majestic, eroded hills, gran- with a month’s worth of dehydrated pro- Long way, you need meat,” he said, cutting ite islands among seas of red sand, and, surprisingly, periodic swamps provided Good judgment of your own capabilities is the shelter for migratory birds. The burned wreckage of an SUV with its key still in result of experience, but gaining that experi- the ignition reminded me that this seem- ingly safe section of the track had taken the ence is often the result of bad judgment. heaviest toll on human lives. The last two adventurers were lost in 2004. visions, based on a Spartan 1,300-calorie off a couple of still warm kangaroo ribs. Although a satellite phone provided daily ration. With so much ballast already With my scarce food supplies, I gratefully some feeling of security, I knew that in case on board, the weight of all my additional accepted the extra calories. of emergency it would take several days Rough riding. The challenging terrain never lets up on the Canning Stock Route. equipment had to be shaved down to just The first stage of the journey led before a rescue party could reach me. So far 11 pounds, leaving no room for spare through the broad plains of the Tanami everything was going well. The bike and I 20 a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t j a n u a r y 2008 adventurecycling . o r g a d v e n t u r e c y c l i s t j a n u a r y 2008 adventurecycling . o r g 21 Not entirely alone. rolled fearlessly across the wilderness, and Jakub and friends. sive bruise. The end of the track was no my body went into survival mode. Senses longer my destination — I pedaled to the became sharper, unused muscles rapidly next hill, the next rock, the next bunch of came into use, and my heart even began thorny bushes. to beat more slowly. Yet the biggest chal- On the second week of the expedition, lenges were still in front of me. I ran out of luck. I crashed badly several Before long I learned to supplement my times, broke my chain, and punctured one menu with locusts, lizards, and other spe- of the water tanks, spilling most of the cialties caught on the track, but my biggest contents. The track no longer matched concern was always water. Most of the the map’s descriptions, with seven wells in 52 wells established by Canning’s expedi- a row being dry. Then I lost a piece of my tions have turned into ruins, with only map. I’d hit rock bottom; I’d had enough. some rusty buckets, dilapidated troughs, But then, following a dry riverbed, I saw or sand-filled holes left to reveal their loca- a lone gum tree. Underneath was a tiny, tions. With only a handful of places still rocky pond filled with clear water. The providing water, I searched for sources leaves of the tree were rustling in the wind, that weren’t marked on maps but had been and small birds were chirping. I could known for centuries to the indigenous finally wash the red dust off my face and people of Australia. There could be a tiny refill the nearly empty tanks. waterhole hidden among spinifex grass or Two hours later, I was ready to battle the remains of a periodical stream trapped the track again. As I moved south, the land- between rocks. Even an abominable dark scape changed constantly. The snow-white puddle with slimy animal corpses in it was surfaces of dry salt lakes shined among the greeted with joy because it marked the line red dunes, the pale chains they created between life and death. marking the courses of ancient rivers that With my survival strategy in place, the flowed thousands of years ago. In a thick route quickly turned rough beyond my layer of salt, I spotted mummified insects, wildest expectations. For 1,000 miles past scorpions, and other small creatures — the ruins of Well 37 there is a kingdom of some of them not dead. Australian deserts huge sand hills sculpted by the prevailing are inhabited by a unique species of shrimp winds. The ride turned into the world’s whose larvae can survive for years until a Shade lover. Second only to water, shade is a coveted commodity on the Canning. longest roller coaster. First, there was a heavy rain fills the lake for a week or so. stiff climb requiring all the power I could Within that time, they need to mature to night; the dingoes bumped into me the muster. Then, for a few seconds, I would have their offspring, which, with a bit of next morning. For a while, we watched hammer down through deep sand at 25 luck, will survive until the next storm. each other, the dogs wondering if I could miles per hour until the rough track ate At the end of the nineteenth century, be breakfast, and me wondering how long up my momentum and brought my speed explorer Frank Hahn reached the largest it would take to grab a solid Brazilian knife back into the single digits. A few moments of the western salt lakes and, unable to from my pannier.