While Not Working

 My early start didn't happen: I waited for the sun to thaw me out before I even started the breakfast/packing up routine. The colours of the flood plain changed from yesterday's ride. The line of trees marking the river danced back and forth, at times tantalisingly close and at times far away across plains furred with black clumps of tumbleweed that piled itself against the fences. The black tumbleweed, also known as hairy panic or roly poly, turns black when it dies. It blows away with the wind and under the right conditions can cause huge drifts against fences and buildings. Distance markers marched by at 10km intervals, not that they did me any good because they counted down the distance to Bourke and that was too far away for me to think about. All I wanted was a count down to Tilpa. Finally! A Tilpa sign. Home for the night: Tilpa Pub.   Unlike the earlier river towns, Tilpa had not weathered the end of the river trade well. There was no trace left of the bustling por...

I woke to a southerly wind roaring in the trees and rolled out barely past sunrise, so excited was I by the prospect of moving again and with a tailwind to boot. Ready to roll. I had 20km under my belt when the admin staff from Council rang.  "The road's open!" they declared.  I thanked them politely and neglected to mention that I was already well on the way. I don't care, I'm going anyway, I know the sign is wrong. The road was (mostly) perfect, hitting the sweet spot between mud and dust, hard-packed by the few vehicles that had preceded me. I spent the day on the flood plain, pushed along by a tailwind, mobs of emus and kangaroos crossing the road ahead of me but never close enough for a decent photo.  For the first time at lunch I had to sit in the sun rather than the shade to keep warm, the south wind having come all the way from Antarctica.  My little fly friends had cooled down considerably and for half the day I enjoyed cycling without a fly net. Leopard ...

Wilcannia was the part of bicycle touring that happened in between riding the bicycle.  No bicycle riding happened at all, other than a quick spin out to East Tilpa Road and back again.  Still here. The day dawned cold and clear with a bright southerly breeze, perfect for drying out roads. In between regularly checking the road status I explored Wilcannia and conducted quality control sampling at the cafe.  The stretch of river on which Wilcannia lay was originally inhabited by the Barkindji, 'people of the river', the descendants of whom continue to live in Wilcannia. Colonisation was not kind to the Barkindji and Wilcannia is considered one of the most socially disadvantaged postcodes in NSW. The town was an alcohol free zone, so all the pubs were closed and shuttered. The Community Grocery Store opened every day apart from when it didn't.  The Council Chambers housed admin staff who couldn't tell me why the road was closed or when it would open. On Tuesday afterno...

 Rain spattered on the tent and I dithered from 4am, reading the weather forecast and tying to guess the condition of the road north. The problem lay in the black soil of the flood plains. At best it was like a highway, at worst it was a sea of dust, when wet it was slippery glue. I met a couple from Charleville while I was hanging out in the laundry charging my phone, and they had just come from Tilpa. He was quite excited to hear about my bicycle ride: he'd been a keen cyclist in the day, once riding from Charleville to Birdsville with a group of mates, just for fun. "Tell you what" he said, "Let's go for a run out along the road, see what it's like." So we did. It was rideable, I decided. The rain had laid the dust nicely and I was convinced that the weather was now clearing. Time to sally forth to the Wilcannia Community Grocer to stock up for the next 6 days. Myself and half the town turned up at the advertised Sunday opening hour of 09:00, ...

The sun put on a fantastic morning show and then retired behind curtains of cloud for the rest of the day.  I got under way early as rain was forecast and although it wasn't going to be a lot of rain I didn't want to get caught with all that dust turning to mud. The wind was excited from the get-go, no gentle warm-up for the day, just a blast into my face. My million fly fans took shelter on my back and panniers. I swear if I could harness flies they could have hauled me all the way to Wilcannia but the lazy beggars just freeloaded instead. I saw a fox. Despite the goat chatter that went on in the bushes all night, I saw no goats. This was the order of my day: Slog into the wind. Walk because dust. Slog into the wind. Walk because dust.  Slog into... you get the picture. The country around me showed signs of more recent rain: the dams were full and grass lined the road in places. The last 7km into Wilcannia were sealed which meant I only had the wind to contend with. I heard W...

Sometimes I do silly things. Who thinks it's a good idea, when buying her lunchtime sandwich, to also buy a chocolate bar for later? Who then stuffs it in her snack bag where it joggles around in the sun for the next 4 hours? Who then decides to eat her chocolate bar, clocks that it's a bit squidgy, opens it anyway, and then attempts to stuff it in her mouth whilst still wearing a fly net? Do you know how tricky it is to wash chocolate out of a fly net when you're being very parsimonious about water use? Alright, let's move on. Another of Menindee's old stone buildings. I visited the river on my way out of town. Before the installation of a bridge in 1927 there was no way to cross the river other than by private punt owned by a Mr Turkey Creek Smith, who lived on the river bank and kept a pet sheep to coax recalcitrant stock onto his punt for river crossings.  In 1882 the NSW Government installed a new punt which transported people and stock for free and put quite a...