While Not Working

Morning in Pooncarrie. Rain moths spending their short adult lives in fruitless combat with the lights on the ablutions block in Pooncarie. You wouldn't believe it from the photos I've shown of the Darling, but the paddle steamer trade extended well up this stretch of river, and the Pooncarrie wharf was considered flood-proof due to being built on two levels and therefore accommodating large variations in river flow. The grey nomads offered me extra water as I left the campground, careful not to step on any dead/dying rain moths. I literally had nowhere left to store 500ml of water, so I stored it in my stomach and my kidneys will thank me for it I'm sure. I stopped off at the General Store where I bought a salad roll to eat as a treat at lunch time. The thought crossed my mind that I should ask that beetroot be witheld from the roll, but I did not act on it. Instead I took my salad roll, stuffed it into my bag which was jammed under the bungees on the back of my bike be...

The little girl had pink cowboy boots and carried a soft drink in a pink sequinned stubby holder. "Hello," she said.  "You're riding a bicycle." "I am." "Do you have a car?" "I left it behind.  I'm just riding my bicycle instead." She thought about this and discarded it as a train of thought not worth riding.  She held up her stubby holder, pointing to a gap in the sequins.  "One's missing." "So it is.  You'll have to find a new one and stick it on." She thought about that too, then turned tail and ran back into the beer garden of the Pooncarie Pub, where I heard her start a conversation with her mother about where one might procure a sequin and some glue.  Not wishing to meet a mother who had just been given a mission she most assuredly didn't want, I acted like the coward I am and slunk into the Pooncarie Pub by another door.  But that was at the end of the day: let's start at the beginning....

 I've got a little beef with the weather. It's meant to be Autumn, moving into winter. That means cooler temperatures and a comfortable little tailwind. Instead, a 'blocked high' hangs around like an unwanted guest, saying "I really should go" but all the while puffing out unseasonable temperatures and nasty little headwinds. Good morning from Outback Almonds. That fat moth from last night was a rain moth. The adult moths emerge after heavy rains in late Autumn. They only live for two days during which they do not eat and some of them choose to spend their time banging themselves against lights. Remind me not to be reincarnated as a rain moth. From Outback Almonds I followed the High Darling road which, true to its name, stayed above the flood plain. It was all gravel with occasional patches of sand, through which I walked. I'm being very conservative about sand: I figure my biggest risk is falling off in sand and breaking something, and then I'd have ...

  I had planned an early getaway. That didn't work. Instead my neighbours Glenda and Michael stuffed me full of tea, toast, and honey while the early morning ticked away. Eventually I rolled away along the Darling. Whereas I was able to stay beside the river on the Murray,  on the Darling I'll spend a lot of time out on the flood plain, with the river nothing more than line of trees over in the distance. There's a lot more fences to separate me from the water; there's a lot more distance between resupply points, and I have to think carefully about my water. But today I was just headed for Outback Almonds, a farm stay 40 kilometers up the river from Wentworth. I pedaled through Pomona, which proudly introduced itself as a community built by 'settlers working together'. It was obviously an irrigation community with armies of grapevines marching beside the road all dressed in their autumn finery. And just past Pomona I found a little gravel track to the river and s...