Day 443 | Gilbert River: perched high above the waterhole

109 km | zzOz total: 13,541 km

When I was down at the Mitchell River crossing, a little 18 km detour to view the big river, I met a motorcyclist, powering through the rim deep water. He’d camped at Musgrave roadhouse, gee, it was 3 weeks since I’d gone through there, he’d taken the direct track, plenty bumpy due to the cattle hoofs in the Wet Season clay and only the twin track for a goodly part.

He was getting around, having left Emerald, halfway down Queensland from here, last Wednesday and had already made it to The Tip, it was morning tea on his Day 7.

We talked a bit about his big trail bike, they are thick on the ground around the Far North, but exactly what I don’t recall, but I do remember he had a 42 litre fuel tank and his backrest seemed to be his spare 8 litre bag of 4 stroke super, everyone else I meet seems to prefer loading petrol or diesel around them whether on the roof of your 4WD or the saddle of your bike.

He was obviously experienced in this form of travel, sipping on his Camelback, then he pealed the backpack off his leather encasement, stuck his earplugs behind his ears and produced a cigarette.

We talked some more, I guess he’d assessed how sympathetic I might be: he’d started with a travelling companion but it sounded as if 3 days were enough to get well sick of him, an angry bloke, keen to fly off the handle, sounded abusive to me, too much money, ie, millions, but apparently unable to get on with people which eventuated with them parting company over some minor incident when my bloke realised he wasn’t enjoying that bloke’s company.

This guy liked a chat, smiling now that unpleasantness had been purged, unrolling his plans for the Simpson Desert, unlikely I thought knowing that while the distance is short, 500 km or something, the speed is low due to the 1200 odd sand dunes you have to cross and you just can’t carry enough fuel.

There’s plenty of cranky old blokes out here away from the cities, beyond the mere curmudgeonly, angry for whatever reason, usually themselves, but there’s a lot to be said, not for compliance or acquiescence, but for composure and even graciousness when the pressure is on.