Some locked gates with no signs were my first obstacle and after climbing them thought there must be an easier way so I decided to just climb the rockface / ridge up to the nearest tower. Half way up the almost vertical rockface, covered in scratches I pondered; here I am, nobody knows I’m here, I probably shouldn’t be here, I’ve got no climbing gear and is it worth it anyway. I might even dislodge a rock and have to cut my arm off then have to make a movie about it.
I later found a very narrow hidden overgrown track that finally got me there, tho’ it became obvious that this monument was not for the feint hearted and a definitely not for tourists. So I rambled amidst the towers and unfenced multi 100m drops and other hazards and decided my bike (left in the bush below) needed me.
I was later informed that the grounds are patrolled by two Alsatians but they were not in evidence on my adventure (lucky for them) and that nobody had visited the place in years. Apart from me.
On the way back the rear wheel bearing that I’d replaced the day before my departure started to grind and it became obvious a new back wheel was required because the wheel hub bearing surface was obviously past it.
Fortunately the previous the day I’d got a lift down to the town below for some supplies and located the only local bike shop which sold me the spare gear cable I needed for one third the cost in Australia.
So I spent the rest of the day fixing J’s roof leak – a greater problem than I’d earlier thought, dismantling and diagnosing the wheel bearing, and trying to figure out why my bloody internet connection had suddenly died.
