Day 102 | Mt Gould Police Station: I'll point out it's a historic building no longer operational
102 km | zzOz total: 4,872 km
100 km on a dirt road, that’s travelling.
It started slow, a side wind, occasionally head, slightly up hill, sometimes soft, sometimes rocky, but the under pressured Petrol on the back powered on.
Even had time to stop at the padlocked gate at Landor Station, needing some water, the place seemed ominously deserted, the door open, no one around in the huge, rambling, enormous verandahed place, but eventually Richie, the owner, and Andrew, his off-sider, strolled over, they are preparing for the muster. After last year’s drought terminated in a massive flood they are not sure how many cattle they will find.
I was dragged in for a cuppa, Richie spent time trying to sort out an issue dealing with a $600 crane hire, a welder and a handyman. The crane was the only party co-ordinated but had gone back, task unaccomplished, the others hadn’t turned up.
That got him started on various very humorous tales about occupational health and safety, the absurd cost involved, 24 phone calls about an electrocution on the farm, no serious damage, or the neighbour’s farm when two days ago a small petrol fired pump had caused the destruction of the diesel delivery truck, no one hurt but a contingent was preparing to turn up from Perth tomorrow to investigate. It was just an accident.
Most of these stories would need to be bleeped out for public recounting, but it was good natured, just a shake of the head at the absurdities of the world, that’s the crazy bureaucratic state we live in, but was certainly colourful use of language.
I turned down my second job offer in two days, this time looking after the homestead while the troops were out mustering. I theorised that it’s going to be plenty hot in a month’s time and I should keep moving on.
I’d gone less than 40 km before lunch which usually marks the halfway point of the day but subsequently the road improved, I started going downhill not up, and the wind turned around to give me assistance for a change. Not much of that in recent times, ie, since I left Exmouth.
I crossed the local government boundary, suddenly in the Shire of Meekatharra and the road immediately became as good as you could hope for.
Only 150 km to go, but the supplies are running low, on Day 12 there will no longer be the standard breakfasts or lunches.
Just as well I adore cous cous.