Tra- la....

.....yet another excellent day riding the ever trusty Gerty on the dirt of north western Australia. Yes I know that yesterday I said that it was too hard and that my wrist hurts and that I was worried that Gerty might shake to bits. Well all of that is still the case, but that was yesterday and today is today. So after a bit of bitumen to warm up,  off we went again in search of sand and gravel.

The road was very empty and I had it all to myself for quite a while. Then who did we meet as we were riding along, but Trent and Cynthia, the Adelaide couple who helped me bump start Gerty after she got wet in the river. They were all cheery and I think on their way back to SA.

As I packed up this morning, it was silent apart from various birds of prey circling overhead and calling to each other. It really is quite special being out here just seeing things in their natural environment.

 

Anyway, I found some interesting looking places on the map last night, and as they were fairly nearby, that's where we went. One of the things I really like about WA is that it really is mostly unsealed, so rough riding is never far away.

It wasn't  as rutted or bumpy as bits of the GRR but it was very sandy. But luckily the sand was quite packed as it's road train access to farms and as they are fresh tyre tracks, I try and ride in them. 

But it was quite windy today so some of the sand had blown into piles already, and I rode through several willy willies - mini sand whirl winds. That's always great for a bit of facial exfoliation but not so great when it gets in your mouth. Nasty!

I was on my way up one such track in  search of an abandoned cattle station when I met three road trains and three drivers plus a dog called Bobby all having a chinwag in the middle. So I stopped to pass the time of day and check that it was ok to go where I planned.

" bloody hell love, what are you doing up here on a postie bike?"

" oh just riding and seeing stuff"

"'Hahaha! Good for you. Where have you come from?"

"'The east coast, via  Thredbo, the Murray, Great Ocean Road, Tasmania, Adelaide, the centre. You know "

" what about the Nullarbor? You didn't ride that on the postie did ya?

" oh yeah, I forgot about that. Yes I did, then round the bottom of WA, up to Perth then up the coast  to here"

" Blimey that's impressive. If you had a bigger bike you could ride the Gibb River  Road too but that'd be really hard on any bike".

" yeah I know. I've done some of it already"

" you bloody what? You havent? That is really something. On your own?"

"Yep"

" where did you sleep?"

" in the bush"

" what if you breakdown or get a flat ? Can you fix it?"

" yes mostly. As long as it's not major internal engine stuff like the gearbox"

" blimey I'm impressed. Most people ride it with mates and stay at campsites, but on your own is really excellent. Bloody good on yer, you mental pom"

Then they all shook my hand. Well all except the dog who just barked. Funny!

The cattle station was about 5 kms further on and I probably wouldn't have found it had one of the drivers not told me to take the sandy track to the left through the bushes on the right hand bend, just before the faded sign to the next town.

 And there it was, another km or so from the road beyond some  very deep blown sand. The remnants of cattle yards, buildings and a once going concern, now forlorn and rusted in the midday sun. 

I wonder what happened to the owners, the people who worked there? There was no house left and no furniture or indication of recent living, so it looked like it had been a planned shutting down. But a few water tanks, a barn and some fencing was left.

After a while, I took a walk over towards some rocks by a windmill but as I got closer, the rocks moved. Cows. Loads of them, and they clearly thought I'd brought them food because they got up and started moving towards me, walking at first, then running. There were about 100 too, big ones, little ones and middle sized ones, and they were all heading for me. Bugger. There was no way they were going to stop but unless I got out of the way sharpish, I was likely to be trampled into the dust. So I tried to look calm and unruffled as I walked quickly back to the buildings but actually I was crapping myself. As soon as I got within 100 m of a building, I legged it as fast as I could and jumped behind what was left of a wall. I reckon it was a PB worthy of any on a sports field. When I looked up from where I'd landed, several bovine faces were peering over the wall, snorting and dribbling in my general direction. Luckily, they got bored  before too long and wandered back to the windmill.

I let them get a few hundred metres away then emerged from my scaredy cat hole, got on Gerty and rode back to the track. Funnily enough, I didn't even mind the sand on the return....

I found a few other tracks on my way along the Great Northern HIghway but this time I didn't go too far up them. There wasn't much up there anyway, apart from a few phone masts and some dried up creeks.

But the there is a rest area  along that highway called The Boab, presumably named after the large boab in the layby. 

I noticed that it was very green too and soon found out why. I was only there for about ten minutes when a car drew in and the occupants got out and peed up it. They went and about five minutes later, another car arrived and the occupants did the same. Then a third car with six people, including an old lady and she dropped her drawers without any ceremony, waving to me as she emerged from' her spot'. I waved back of course.

So tonight I'm camped just along from the WiIlare Roadhouse up on a manmade flood levee. 

There are quite a few signs warning of estuarine crocs - salties, and a not too friendly brand - so I'm hoping that I'm far enough away and high enough above their territory that they will leave me alone.