Day Nineteen
Making it to Perth.
Day 19 started quietly, under a clear sky and cool morning air, but I knew it wasn’t just another ride. This was the last main run. I was on the bike by 7:00 a.m., not rushing, just wanting time to let it sink in. The road ahead felt different heavier somehow because I knew every kilometre was bringing an ending I’d been working toward for weeks.
Leaving Busselton, the landscape opened up and gave me space to think. The day warmed quickly, climbing past 30 degrees, and the wind picked up, pushing against me harder than usual. My body felt tired, but my head was full memories of early starts, long days, doubt, and determination all rolling through at once. Every stop along the way felt less like a break and more like a moment to acknowledge that I was still going.
Mandurah slowed the pace in the best way. Catching up with my old friend Allan brought a sense of normal life back into the journey, reminding me how far I’d travelled, not just in distance but in time and mindset. After that, climbing over Stake Hill, the roads began to change. Traffic increased, signs pointed toward Perth, and suddenly the finish felt real.
The final stretch into the city was emotional. Wide motorways, bridges crossing rivers that reflected the sky, and then the skyline ahead. Crossing that last bridge, I felt a mix of disbelief, relief, and pride. After 274 kilometres that day and more than 6,800 across the journey I rolled to a stop. The road was done.
Later, standing still and looking out over Perth from my hotel room, it finally settled in. I hadn’t chased speed or perfection I just kept moving forward, one day at a time. Somewhere along the way, that was enough to carry me across an entire continent.