So I rode on and looked for a rest area but there were only roadside lay-bys, right on the highway. They're no good for me as I'm likely to get run over and they're far too noisy anyway. So it's another bush camp tonight, set up just before sundown , no moon and a fabulous ceiling of stars.
And while sitting here typing this, I've seen four satellites whip across the sky from side to side, much quicker than a plane of course and perhaps having spotted me down here, despite my efforts to hide away.
It's very balmy out here too, and the mozzies are out on the town, buzzing and chomping away. Plus some goats are nearby and I can hear them snorting. They're feral and a bit of a pest but harmless, although they are a law into themselves. I just hope they don't find me and eat my tent. The wild pigs are the things to avoid though. Mad things with tusks that charge anything.
I've got more used to the sounds of the bush now , what with crickets and frogs, snorting goats and a few birds which scream. They're a bit scary at first because birds usually sleep at night but not these. Curlers or something.
The run up from Coral Bay was a bit tedious, flat scrub land for miles and miles but on days like that I sing to myself or try and memorise all 50 states that make up the US or the names of all the girls who were in my class at school. I fail miserably on both counts always but it keeps me amused. And I do have my iPod of course.
The every now and then, amusing bits of roadside art appear. This bloke was made of all sorts - an old mower fuel tank, a lampshade hat, fishing buoy head, sprocket fishing reel, and a bit of old pole. Plus a bona fide boat and an office chair in it.
And there were these giant and hill
things, dotted all over the place. And they're big too, each kms standing about 2 m high.
Coral Bay is a beautiful place and sheltered by the Ningaloo Reef, but well on its way to becoming a commercialised and crowded resort. I had planned to stay overnight at the backpackers but was put off by the backpacker party gang outside so left. And that was a shame because apparently a dead whale was trapped on the reef and tiger and bull sharks had been feeding on it all week. That would have been worth an hour trip for $40.00 in the glass bottom boat, but Pauline in the booking office was in such a bad mood that I walked away from that too, as did the four other people asking about the same thing. But I did go down to the boat ramp to see the fish and also had a swim while I was there.
Gerty posed on the jetty with Ningaloo Reef in the background; fortunately Sandy tightened her brakes up yesterday too.
The landscape has changed a bit too... It's like Monument Valley in the US with wind eroded buttes towering above the road.
And Gerty hit 47000 kms today so that means we have ridden 18500 together, and I love her. A cracking little bike.
I'm lying here in my tent now and it's pitch black outside. The goats have stopped snorting but the crickets are still chattering. There is very little traffic travelling along the highway except for road trains, but the road is so straight and flat that I can hear everyone of them approaching from either direction, long before they pass. me. I must be able to hear them for a good four minutes, firstly as a distant yet indeterminate rumble which gets louder and morphs into the distinct sound of an engine, before receeding back into a rumble as it moves away from where I am in the bush, gradually fading into the distance.
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