To the Back of Back O' Bourke

This next bit of the journey will fondly be remembered as 'the next bit'.

I had made it to Dubbo and the priority was to cool down. It wasn't long before I found Dale and Rachaels house and the pool which would become my sanctuary over the next couple of days. If it wasn't for the need to find nourishment I would never have vacated, alas this was not the case and I was forced back onto the bike to head into town.
This is when I encountered my first magpie. There is only a 6 week window each year when these clever, aggressive birds protect their nest with force. An ominous shadow looms overhead and I instantly know what will follow. A sudden burst of energy and I'm pedalling away at top speed, as fast as my legs will go, continually looking over my shoulder to the stalking bird just behind me. As I feel I can't possibly keep it up it soars away and relief washes over my body. I would not return this way.
I make the decision to lay low for the following rest days. I used this time to visit a physio, meet some locals and relax by the pool. My hosts in Dubbo were most generous giving me full access to their house, some internet time and use of a scooter to get around on. By the last day I was eager to get back on the bike. It was quite a hot day and as I lay in the pool looking up at the glowing blue sky and watching the birds go by I thought about my peers and friends at work and it didn't seem fair. It was time to continue.....

I was repacked and ready to go. By now I knew what i was using and how often so I could pack accordingly, easing the strain of wondering where things were and searching for them as required. I was off to Narromine.
After such a long rest I felt completely rejuvenated and I was moving along with the greatest of ease. Narromine was only 40km away and the plan was to start slow with a short day. I had been warned about the flatness the remainder of western NSW would bring and although the road was straight it was still going slightly up and down. Within a couple of hours I was within 10km of Narromine, not even the slight head breeze was hampering movement. Upon reaching my destination I had decided to find a place to camp. There was no point pushing myself just yet, not when the Maquarie river looked so inviting.
I found camp at the local tourist park situated just on the north side of town, backing onto the aerodrome. As it happens Narromine is a hub for gliders and hosts competitors from all over the world. The aerodrome also boasts a handmade working replica of Wright Bros 1909 Class A Flyer, built by a couple of local plane building enthusiasts.
I had found a shady place to camp and preceded to visit the amenities block for a wash. I entered to hear the sounds of classical music. At first I took little notice before recognising the song as 'Pachelbel: Canon in D' and for those that are familiar with this song you will know it is music usually reserved for the worlds poshest toilets, not the dunny at Narromine caravan park.
I spent the remainder of the day floating in the Maquarie river and staying cool. The water is most refreshing and there is not a sole around. As usual the sun going down brings relief from the heat, unfortunately the same can't be said for the mosquitoes.

I rise with the sun and the heat it brings. After packing up camp (something which is already becoming part of the daily grind) I attempt to leave. As I wheel my bike I instantly notice there is something wrong, another flat tyre. Not the way I'd like to start the day but its not going to fix itself. After removing the tube to replace i find it has let go on the valve stem, not a place i was willing to try and patch so I scrap this one to the bin and use my last good tube. This leaves me with one patched tube as a spare and I'm not filled with any confidence to continue like this. I get on my phone to try and find replacements and get onto a a shop in Trangie only 35km up the road. They not only have tubes but thorn resistant ones at that, I'm on my way.
It was 9:30am by the time I was moving and the southerly wind which greeted me with the sun had now died down and even changed direction. The road is now dead flat and for the first time I can see as far as my eyes will allow before the road disappears into the horizon. Despite this the 35km to Trangie takes little time to reach and I locate some new tubes. Andy of Andys warehouse is more than helpful. We are both surprised that he had the correct tubes in stock and I learn now that Dubbo was the last metropolis i would encounter for the next couple of thousand kilometres. Andy and his wife Michelle show interest in my well being and begin to load me up with tape, a neck cooling scarf and advice on the road ahead, especially the heat. Over the next couple of days it would get into the 40's where I am told with the temperature of the road out here my tyres would melt, I am curios as to how accurate this would be. I thank Andy and Michelle for their assistance and continue on into the day.

The urge to camp in Trangie is high as the day gets hotter and I must decide quickly what to do to beat tomorrows 40deg scorcher. Nyngan is 95km away so I press on into the day, hoping to get to Nevertire (35km) and then make a morning assault on Nyngan the following day.
I move closer to Nevertire as a hot headwind picks up in the afternoon. This area has a large cotton industry, this is evident by the road side littered with cotton from the passing trucks. It begins to get hard to pedal as fatigue from the wind kicks in. I find myself moving only a few kilometres at a time before needing to find refuge under the shade of a tree. While catching said shade a ute pulls over in front of me blocking the road. A father and son occupy the ute, they had driven past and returned to see if I was ok. Again offering me water and a lift, both of these i would decline. It begins to feel as if my mum is sending people out to check on me. I am advised here that I am only 15km from my destination, a short distance that would take the remainder of the afternoon to travel. I'm not sure what there was to be in Nevertire and to my delight a pub with air-con and a shower to unwind from the day in. I am absolutely knackered today after my first genuinely hot day so far, and as I'm told tomorrow is the one to look out for.

I set my alarm for 4am and get an early sleep, already packed and ready to go for an early start. A restless sleep and a desire to beat the heat helps me rise. Its still dark and I use my lights for the first time as I set off for Nyngan just 60km away. Its beautifully cool and there is a distinct lack of traffic on the road which allows  me to find the smoothest line. I peer over my shoulder at the orange rising sun and am in awe of the light it brings to the flat landscape. The road is straight and flat, again being able to see as far as my eyes allow. I can make out lights in the distance and at first attribute this to a reflection off my headlight. As it turns out it is a vehicle coming the other way and with no obstructions i can see several kilometers down the road. It takes what seems like an eternity to reach me.
The sun rise is nothing short of amazing, i wonder why I haven't been on the road for this yet or when I would re-live this magic. I bask in the morning sun, taking the opportunity to snap lots of photos and watch the kangaroos and especially the birds welcome the day. I have been watching Galahs with great interest and I first noticed their unique colour scheme against the bright blue sky, they also seem to travel in pairs (Apparently Galahs from a strong bond with a partner much the same as a duck). It is the wedge tailed eagle which would take the interest this morning. I had already spotted a few shadowing the road looking for prey but this morning there were many more, and they were becoming quite curious (or hungry). I stopped as I notice a shadow from overhead. I turn to spy an eagle circling overhead and getting closer, catching thermals just behind me. As it feels reminiscent of a recent magpie attack I remain stopped, keeping eye contact the entire time ready to react. Even I am too large a prey for a wedge tailed eagle and repeats of this behaviour as I travel up the road settle my nerves as it becomes the norm.

The cool morning allows for maximum pedalling on the flat road. The problem with the flat though is there is no rest from the pedals, no free kilometres rolling down a hill, all motion forward is undertaken from my own steam. Despite this Nyngan moves ever closer and before long I'm knocking on the door with only 20km to go. I turn my phone back on to a barrage of messages from friends old and new warning me of the imminent heat the day would bring. "Ha" I thought, one step ahead. Maybe not, another flat tyre! With such a short distance to go I attempt to just pump it up and make a run for it. This proves to be successful as a make it to Nyngan in ample time.

A day early again arriving in Nyngan which will equate into more rest time and time to prepare for the next leg to Bourke. Nicole is coming to visit me again this weekend which would be the last time I would see her for at least 6 weeks. I use this to justify some luxury accommodation, the last I would enjoy for some time. While I wait for Nicole I use the time to replace both tubes to thorn resistant and do some washing. I had underestimated the harshness of the outback and the thorny grass which lines the hwy.
Nicoles visit passes way too fast after we spend the weekend relaxing together and checking out the sights Nyngan has to offer, which is only one, the Bogan river.

As soon as I wake on the Monday I immediately wish for 'one more day', this was not to be and the journey must continue. Nicole went and waited for me on the edge of town for one last embrace. It was an emotional goodbye neither of us wanted to drag on.
The Mitchell hwy would continue to take me north and the following 200km to Bourke. On the map was a dead straight road and I imagined the extreme flatness to continue. To my joy and surprise the road began to ungulate up and down and even went around some *gasp* corners. The dirt which dresses the vast landscape is now a deep red, and even though I'm only on the cusp of the real outback, the dirt and plant life tell me I'm there. I continue to pedal along in the cool morning air right out on the road as the traffic is continuing to be sparse. Only 40km down the road and I have reached Girrilambone. With a population of 66 I am always impressed these places have a pub, and sometimes only a pub. Here I meet Greg, a local Mr fix it, he advises me there is camping at Coolabah about 30km onwards. I rest for a while before taking his advice and heading for Coolabah.
I chase the black ribbon into the distance as it continues to follow the contour of the land. Its a pleasant ride as there are some slight down sections with a gentle breeze on my back. In no time I have reached Coolabah.

Coolabah is famous for feral goat races every June long weekend. As i can gather they pull humans in small chariots suitable to be pulled by a goat (or goats) and is a busy time of year in the beer drinking community. There stands the remains of the local pub, recently burned down and awaiting to be rebuilt. There is a shop/post office/petrol stop here also. I enter to catch a bit of cool aircon and enquire with the surly lady behind the counter if there was somewhere to camp as Greg had suggested. Her firm response of "No" is enough for me not to question this and after debating with myself weather of not to just camp anyway I top up some water and move on down the road in search of a suitable spot. There are still plenty of trees and I find it very easy to choose a suitable tree to shelter from both the sun and the road.

With 125km left to get to Bourke I know that there will be another night camping on the side of the road. To my delight the day brings a fantastic tailwind, and the cool air makes for another pleasant ride. While having a bit of breakfast at a rest stop a council ute pulls in to check the bins. Martin from the Bogan Shire Council is keen to stay and have a chat. He seems to be a wealth of information on wild pigs and shares his advice on dealing with them. I'd never even thought about pigs of them attacking me. I am told its only the big ones , as Martin holds his hand at waist height, and the ones with tusks I need to worry about. They are easily side stepped, I'm told. I probably should have gotten a bit more info on avoiding these, as it stands if I'm attacked I will just keep side stepping the wild angry pig until it gets tired. This would have to do.
After travelling 50km for the morning I reach Byrock and the last pub before Bourke. Byrock has the nicest pub I have seen so far with the insides filled with clever signage about hangovers and credit being like sex (some get it, some don't) and a barrage of hats signed by the drunken cowboys and shearers who used to wear them. I contemplate staying for the afternoon but Bourke is too close and any progress made while the day is bearable I'll have to take.

I make it another 20km up the road, constantly searching for a camping spot as the tree have become scarce and thin, offering little protection from the sun or the road. I finally choose a spot in the red dirt. The afternoon heat is beginning to intensify as i sit in the dirt of my chosen spot, cooking dinner and thinking about the next day and the 60km to Bourke. It is at this moment I realise I need a small chair, something I had passed on when I was in Dubbo and regrettably so.

The next morning a stiffness overcomes my muscles and its difficult to get up. I finally make the decision to 'pull the plug' (referring to deflating my air mattress) and move onto the final stretch to Bourke. Once movement has been made everything loosens up and the k's are falling fast. As I near Bourke (the final 20km) the road and landscape changes to dead flat with a distinct lack of trees. This equates to no shade and I suddenly feel very exposed to the elements. At the same time it is an incredibly free feeling to be in such a wide open space. It becomes a bit tough on the last 10km as the sun and wind beats down and with my head down, I'd made it.

I roll into Bourke and straight down the main street, checking out where to have lunch, possibly stay, and grab some supplies for the coming week. It is at this point I am stopped by some locals in the street. I had received warnings about Bourke and the security of my bicycle from the local residents and didn't want to arrive with preconceived notions. Fascinated by my choice of bicycle they begin to converse offering me advice on my stay in Bourke. He pointed to one end of the street and said "Don't go up there", then pointed to the other end of the street and said "Don't go down there" before asking if I would like to buy some ice (methamphetamine). I though it to be wise to accept his warning about directions but I decided to decline on the ice as I was new in town and wasn't sure if I was getting the best deal.

I find a nice place on the Darling river to get some lunch and work out my next move. I am put in contact with a local named Doug. A friend I made in Dubbo, Deano, has put me onto his mate who is kind enough to offer accommodation for the evening. The temperature is now rising into the afternoon, I had been warned about the special Bourke heat so I move with haste.

Doug lives in North Bourke which is 5km over the Darling river and I am directed 2km down a corrugated dirt road. Eager to get out of the sun I arrive. Doug has lived in Bourke for 25 years and is a metal working guru working from his fabrication business at home. Kitted out with all necessary equipment to get the job done. Doug is a fantastic host "the house is yours" he says, speaking of the shack in which he lives. He is keen to show me around pointing out all the buggies and go carts which fill the long grass, some with engines, some without. "Have you seen the paddleboat?" remarks Doug. There was a time when Bourke held paddleboat races and as I am now aware the VW Beetle has a natural ability to float making it the perfect choice. The VW was only slightly modified with paddles and the bottom filled with foam to ensure it didn't completely sink.

Into the hot evening I meet one of Dougs neighbours, Nooka. Nooka was born and bred in Bourke (now 60), a shearer by trade he is keen to come and use all his jokes and stories on a fresh face. Nooka tells me he is a local legend, holding the worst attendance record for any school student in NSW ever, and even with no literary abilities finds himself teaching at the local pre-school. A true character.
A late night watching Doug and Nooka drink beer turns into a late morning back on the road. Today is super hot already and with a strong headwind I don't expect to travel far. The Queensland boarder is only about 135km away, and 250km to Cunnamulla which is the next suitable stop to gather supplies. The next 5 days would be the most arduous, another story in itself...........