Day 476 | 40 km north of Bedourie: out on the plains
73 km | zzOz total: 15,010 km
73 km.
Don’t think I’m slacking off, this was a pretty big day, more than 6 hours riding on that not quite so comfortable saddle, the southerly wind hasn’t let up for a few days, it’s been blowing continuously all but one day since I left Mt Isa, and I’m smashing directly into it, not that I’m complaining it’s just the way life is at the moment.
The road has widened, slightly, no more concerns about oncoming traffic, there’s nothing in the way of roadtrains out here, the road is undulating, I’m crossing vast flood plains, seldom used for that purpose but then, as usual out here, taken to the full extreme, then slight waverings of the topography to get to the next.
The Mitchell grass for the main part has the vegetation stakes to itself, the shrubbery invariably resident along the now dry watercourses, for once it’s not due to those remorseless termites munching on the plant matter, a sign I encounter stating the reason is the swelling and contraction of the deep clay out here is more than sufficient movement to break any potential tree roots.
I was away late, after all if I ain’t going to make Bedourie today what’s the point in haste, although a new found chilliness at sunrise doesn’t encourage movement, but still stopped for the traditional smoko at 10, a group of 50 Brolgas on one side of the road and two groups, maybe 100 in total, on the other were feeding, on what I thought, they eat insects in the main, either side of a shrubbed watercourse, of course quite dry despite Saturday’s sprinkle.
There’s been a long string of 4WDs passing, mostly from some police fundraiser for the Flying Doctor Service, a mighty cavalcade moving at pace through the landscape.
Later I stopped at a roadside shelter, an irresistible picnic table under cover inhabited by the affable Joe and his less enthusiastic wife, Johanna, I accept a small instant coffee with a slight salty taste, they were in the van parked well off the road at Chinamans Creek late yesterday, Joe sensitive to the usual barrage of idiotic questions.
You know you’re not supposed to stop at places like this, I say, 4WD and all, and they understand immediately and grin, they assure me they never stay at caravan parks, haven’t been in one on their month on the road.
What Brolgas? having whizzed on by despite the 4 foot high birds being less than 80m from the road.
There’s no major point being made in recounting this other than you get a different perspective riding through here on a bicycle at no great velocity not suffering from excessive momentum or distractions.