25/04/26 Outback Almonds to Bush Camp

 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 to call the cavalry on my fancy satellite zoleo and that would be very embarrassing using up all those resources when I could have just walked a bit instead. So I'm just walking a bit, but I'm still collecting a fine set of bruises from almost falling off when I hit sneaky soft patches anyway.

Tracks tell the tale.

Two cars and a truck came along. They all came at the same time and all the coming and going happened right where I was. I got off the road and let them sort themselves out. Then I waited a bit more for the dust to settle.

Paddocks of cultivated land stretched to the horizon, whiskered with the stalks of a crop long harvested. We're not in SA so there's not a Goyder Line, but I swear if there was one we'd be well north of it: I can't imagine depending on rainfall here to grow a crop.

Graham wants you to know he had a near miss here.

Lunch.

Leaning spot.

Wide.

The road spooled on: rocky patches, sandy patches, rocky and sandy patches. A farmer stopped to say hello. "You're a long way from nowhere." I agreed.

We had a long conversation during which he gently probed to discover that I had no illusions about reaching Pooncarie that night, that I had enough water, and that I had a way to call for help should I get stuck. He gave me complicated details about the road ahead, all of it from the perspective of a car and therefore not much use to me.

Today's wildlife: Meadow Argus butterfly

At the 50km mark I stopped where a little track ran off into a jumbled forest of straggly she oak and tangled windbreaks of dead wood separated by flat red clay pans. It was perfect. I found a suitable tree and leaned my bike. I thought about setting up the tent and decided nope, I'll just sleep under the stars. Seventy-two mosquitoes came to visit as I cooked my dinner.

Home for the night: bush camp.

I put up my tent and retired early. I compromised by leaving off the fly so I could still see the stars.