Day 423 | Steike Road bushcamp: continuing down the S bend of my travels

34 km | Heading west total: 15,148 km

Mt Barker. Funny town.

The countryside was reminiscent of Victoria this morning riding through green hills, with white sheep in the paddocks. Or NZ if those gum trees were replaced by macrocarpas.

No breakfast, I’d run out. At least the supermarket was fully stocked so the larder’s chokka enough to last the few days procrastination to Albany.

The town has well hidden power outlets as I sought to tap out some more blog and recharge a few batteries. I joked with the woman at the information centre, (even in the smallest of localities seem to have one of these publicly accessible). She was determined to find out what subversive act I wanted one for.

In the end I was advised to book into a motel. Otherwise someone’s got to pay for the electricity. (I realised now it would be tough on the locals landing my sub 10c bill.) Yes, of course, I maintained low cheery tones as I cast my eyes on a few spare outlets just next to that seat in the corner, but it appears my shabby unshaven look hasn’t lit up her day.

The tiny spot of the map, Hopetoun, had dozens of public outlets, maybe some slight exaggeration there, but there were 10 available in the main park. They are switched on there. I hope I didn’t drain the local economy with all my recharging in the delightful Hopetoun.

As for less than delightful Mt Barker … what else can you expect where the main tourist attraction is a convict built Police Museum.

I fail to take up her attempt to boost the local economy and don’t check into the motel, instead wait until the library opens at 11, surely the ugliest public building in Australia. (I know there’s plenty of competition but this unheated, windowless Pizza Hut on steroids would be in the top ten of any national list, guaranteed.)

Then it’s 3 hours tapping away for my dedicated readers at Crazy Guy.

So, no lunch either. 

I head on out of Mt Barker as it starts to drizzle and find a takeaway joint, the first I’ve found since Kalgoorlie, located suspiciously off the main road. (Espy didn’t really run to one, at least until it joins the modern world when the Maccas finally opens later this month.) The takeaway doubles as a grocery store of a sort as well but with only a solitary tin or packet of each item on the shelves. Curious.

I have to say, at least in Australia, if it doesn’t have either tomato or beetroot it’s not a burger. A thick mat of carrot doesn’t count.

I’m out of the rain for 30 minutes and the sun is shining when I emerge. The sodium intake has caught up for the year.

Energized again.