Day 411 | 25 km from Moreton Telegraph Station: surprise, it's a gravel pit

56 km | zzOz total: 11,885 km

The Bertie Creek campsite is a pretty little spot and I had it all to myself.

I might explain these campsites are purely informal, they just get used by travellers, there’s no facilities other than running water in the creek, we are way out in the middle of nowhere here. Some are popular due to a good rap on some website or travel book, ie, Dulhunty River might have 10 or 15 vehicles, this one, Bertie, not so far away is better in my opinion but not used so heavily, ie none.

I ate my porridge down at the fast flowing creek feeding the little native fish in the wash-up, although it seems they have the same distain for that type of fare as myself.

There were 3 water crossings today that required portage of my luggage, spinifex from my desert days, the needle like leaves, has perforated my Ortlieb panniers, so they come off and if it’s deep my extra trailer top bag with the computer and diary, etc, is also removed. The trailer bag is no longer completely waterproof but most things inside are in waterproof containers, the tent will dry out, etc.

It also helps with the strength required in manhandling the bike and trailer up the other side, there’s usually major effort expended to get it all up the steep exit track.

It was the last day on the Telegraph, better speed today, only short episodes of walking the bike, but I did have the good fortune to spot 3 black Palm Cockatoos fly past in formation, black except for bright red faces, it really is one of the most striking looking of the Australian parrots.

The low light, well, the tourists at Palm Creek. Maybe they just don’t realise how patronising and downright rude they are, but I smiled, declined to have my photo taken and quickly pedalled off. They could be on the brink of having a most memorable experience, ie, travelling the Telegraph Track, but they are too scared to let go and just embrace life.

Easier to sit back and experience life through other’s achievements.

4 km later the Track was all over and I couldn’t bring myself to stick around at the Bramwell Junction roadhouse for another big burger, instead set sail for another night on my lonesome.

A group of azure winged kookaburras are just not quite able to break into the full standard issue kookaburra laugh but are trying diligently anyway.

Bliss.