Cunamulla was much smaller than I expected and it was here the same Warrego river which was 'dry as a dead dingos donger' in Enngonia a mere 160km away, flourished here full of animals and plant life. A couple of days off allowed me to recoup and check out the town. I revisited the information centre where Mike gave me a lesson on the Great Artisan Basin. A body of water buried between permeable and non-permeable rock under the ground, covering 20% of Australia, 200 million years old, with a capacity 130,000 times that of Sydney harbour. It was here the first free flowing artisan bore in Queensland was sunk. Cunamulla also boasts a mention in a Slim Dusty song, Cunamulla Fella, Where the handshakes stronger, and the smile lasts longer. Not really my cup of tea but its these parts which more cater to the grey nomads of the winter months, occupying outback Queensland in their droves.
It was time to hit the road and continue north towards Charleville, 200km north. Only Wyandra sits exactly half way and all it will be good for is a top up of water. Giving myself four days to reach Charleville I now ride with 11L of water and try to get used to the extra weight on a perminant basis.
It had been overcast during my rest and now the sun was back out. After five 40+ degree days in a row the heat didn't nearly seem as rough and a touch of cool in the breeze filled the air. Today was my birthday and to my great surprise mother nature had supplied me with a tailwind. This made for an extremely pleasant ride and the minimal trees are no longer a bother. The landscape is still very dry and bare but as I move further north with the wind, scraps of green return to the ground around me.
After 30km I enjoy a morning break and take the time to cook up some food and relax in some shade. I feel no rush at all to get anywhere and seem to be adapting to a simple transient life with great enjoyment.
With the breeze on my back pushing me along a bus pulls up beside me and the door opens "Want a lift mate?" comes the voice, "Its too hot out there". For someone travelling in an air-con bus perhaps it was too hot out here, but for someone travelling on a BMX bike it was just right. Of course I decline the lift even when the driver tried to persist, "Plenty of room for your bike". I begin to feel pressured and expect the next offer to be for some 'lollies' to entice me further. Accepting a lift will only ever be my last resort in times of danger and all the 'lollies' in the world wasn't going to get me on that bus, especially when I was having such a great time.
I watched the bus disappear into the distance for what seemed like an eternity and it reminded me of how flat it was out here. I didn't want to stop and was enjoying some techno music with the sounds of Pendulum pounding my ear holes. I dance my way down the road singing and smiling and before I know it I'm only 20km from Wyandra. I have totally lost track of time and distance today and clouds have now hidden the sun, a regular afternoon occurrence in South West Queensland. There is no point in stopping now and I see how fast I can cover the final stretch.
Just under an hour later I reach Wyandra and to my absolute delight the first thing I see is a pub. I had no idea this was here and am blessed with another birthday surprise. It was totally expected to camp on the side of the road tonight, sipping warm water and eating noodles. Refreshingly cool drink here I come.
I pull up at the the pub and am greeted by three locals. Clearly intoxicated, I am immediately adopted by the trio. There was Mick, Lyn and whome I will only ever know as Camel Man. "Where are you staying tonight?" enquired Mick. When I replied "here", "Your staying with us" he says and promises a roof over my head and a feed to boot.
I grab a drink and join them, totally pleased with myself after covering 100km, and just as pleased with making new friends and being able to enjoy a cold beverage. I question Camel Man as to the origin of his nick name. As you might expect it's because he is ,well, a camel man. Walking the outback breaking in wild camels and ultimately domesticating them for our own pleasure. It was hard to get more information out of him as he was clearly the most inebriated. Mick and Lyn made a living by making charcoal, the types they use in charcoal chicken shops in the cities. Special hardwoods in the area were perfect for this and the last load was enough to fill two B-doubles. Quite an operation. Mick had also spent some years walking when he was a bit younger part of the way around Australia and as a fellow wanderer we bonded quite easily.
We didn't spend long at the pub before retiring to Mick and Lyns place for a feed and more drinks, Camel Man was left behind, unable to kick on into the evening. It was nice to sit on the balcony of the only Queenslander (A style of home in Queensland with large balconies) in Wyandra and watch the sun go down as it produced its usual spectacular sight. I begin to fade as we eat and soon retire to my bed on the balcony. I'm provided with a fan to cripple the mosquito's ability to eat me alive while I sleep in the open air. Alas the fan only challenges the mossies to find new ways of getting to my precious blood and a restless night ensues.
A warm overcast morning awaits and with my bike packed its time to leave. My hosts are nice enough to wake from their coma and see me off and I hope to see them again one day.
Back to the highway I feel quite lethargic after last nights drinks. The first thing I notice is that the road has narrowed yet again with just enough room for two cars to pass each other. Road trains are another story with one forced to slow and drop a tyre in the dirt to avoid imminent catastrophe. This keeps me on my toes.
The wind has turned into my face again wasting unnecessary energy. I was already feeling knackered and was having a hard time. The road is again dead straight and now lined with two orange dirt strips and green trees that lead the way. With plenty of time to reach Charleville I move into the trees and rest. Two hours pass and I should probably get moving. The wind doesn't look as if it letting up and I only need to make another 20km today to easily make Charleville tomorrow. The sun returns and my BMX isn't going to ride itself.
The horizon begins to show signs of an afternoon storm and I will on the cooling rain . The closer I get though the further away it goes and the best I can do is reach damp parts of the road where the rain had recently visited. The tree line opens up yet again revealing an wide green panorama all around me. A sign indicates Charleville is only 55km away and, now satisfied with how far I'd come today, seeking a camp was my priority.
A car heading towards me flashes its lights and slows down, as do I. At first I am a little nervous as to what this could be about and as it gets close the window rolls down, an outstretched arm holding a bottle of water reaches out to me " We thought you might like this mate?". They thought right. His name is Barry and he was returning from Charleville to Wyandra with his wife and kids. I don't quite know how to thank these fantastic folk sometime but hopefully the smile on my face shows how much I appreciate it.
Its only a few more kilometres before I find a place to stop. A railway line follows the road and I push my bike up and over the ballast to a clear patch hidden from the road. I have plenty of time to cook some dinner and watch the sky. There's possibility of a storm is in the air and I choose my final camp spot wisely an the highest bit of ground trying to avoid setting up under any large branches.
While I eat I hear something on the other side of the rail line. I'm not sure what it is but my paranoid side immediately thinks its a car. I slowly creep up the railway in an attempt to get a peek. I reach the top and am face to face with a pack of goats coming my way. I'm not sure who was more surprised as they bound off down the railway and off into the bush. The sound of what appears to be the worlds largest cicada fills the air as I try to sleep. So much for the serenity of the bush.
The morning came with the trashing the trees about me. The cool shade allowed me to sleep in longer than usual and I was in no rush to head off into the wind which was once again blowing from the north. It was a given that Charleville would be reached today and I planned it to follow with another day off.
Upon returning to the highway I could feel the days heat early on. I have adapted well to this, the wind on the other hand brought me much frustration. Knowing how close somewhere is and the extended time to reach my destination adds to the angst. There are many challenges to face along the way and I must learn to deal with all of them in turn. The heat was no longer bringing me too much pain, it was time to learn to deal with a headwind. I tell myself it could remain this way for the entire trip and I close my eyes and take a deep breath trying to ease my mind. Its head down and one rotation of the wheels at time which will get me there, eventually, every time.
The roadside remains green following the long straight dips in the road. Each crest reveals yet another long dip into the distance, over and over again. Perseverance gets me ever closer to my daily goal and a rest day as a reward keeps me moving. I spot a large sign up ahead and as I get closer it reads 'Detour'. Shit, I had been drinking water like it was going out of fashion and had left myself only enough to finish the remaining 20km. My mind wandered into where the detour would take me. There are not many places to get water out here and my mental state had already prepared me for a relatively short final afternoon ride into civilisation. I take comfort in seeing the detour is nothing but a dog leg around where the road had once stood during a flood vs road match, with the flood victorious. The final stretch feels endless in the afternoon sun, at times the wind forcing me on foot abating forward motion. Slowly but surely, I see the Charleville sign.
'Charleville, Cosmos Bilby Country' A most amusing sign to welcome me and I wonder if I had packed for this. I seek out a caravan park, somewhere with a bit of shade and a shower. As I ride through Charleville its an absolute ghost town. I had been unaware of the days and realised I had arrived on a Saturday. Country towns only operate on a five day week reminding me of how far away the 24 hour, 7 day a week, city of Sydney was.
The bore water here was especially warm straight out of the ground. John at the caravan park tells me they turn off the hot water over summer and use it as cold. They let the bore water fill the disconnected hot water system to cool, although when I tried this out I couldn't tell the difference. Some people are adverse to drinking the bore water. I was by no means fussy and after being cooled in a fridge it made no difference.
I tried my best to sleep in the next day but my body and the million Galahs in the surrounding trees had other ideas. A walk through the Sunday ghost town in search of breakfast in the drizzling rain and I'm pleased to find a market in the street. I have no need for any new material possessions at this stage so I simply browse and wander the street before seeking out a pie or two. In the remainder of the day I fuel up, absolutely surprised as to have not lost any weight so far having travelled 1200km.
This is now the furthest I have ever ridden my BMX in a single trip. surpassing my previous best my 100km. Its going to get easier and harder at the same time as I slowly move forward into the desert country. I'm constantly told that I'm out here at the wrong time of year and "Its only going to get hotter" wherever I go. I am aware of this and it only adds to the excitement.
The noisy Galahs become my alarm clock. Flying around in their pairs they are a tranquil sight, but when the pairs meet in a group they won't and can't keep quiet. John came over to wish me well and say goodbye. He tells me "You've got a southerly". I had already checked the morning northerly wind and poor John was mistaken, although it was I that would have to suffer.
Over the sad looking Warrego river again on the exit to town I continue north into the wind. The red dirt which lined the road has been replaced with grass and tall trees. Fences which followed had all but gone and I feel like I have been transported into another world. The beautiful green forest keeps my mind off the wind and yesterdays clouds remain shielding the sun. Corners had also made an appearance to the road way. Its happy trails today.
Augethella was only 85km from Chareleville and I had no intention of making it there today in this wind. While I was in Charleville I had agreed to meet my mother in Mt Isa for Christmas. I had done some quick calculations and thought it would be safe to make it there. 1160km in 23 days was about 50km a day average. As I rode into the wind I gave this more thought and it occurred to me I had not factored in rest days, strong winds, storms or breakdowns, ect. For the first time I had a time limit to be somewhere and it made me feel slightly stressed. I would have to wait a day or so to get to a telephone before I could discuss this further.
I had reached the Warrego river yet again as it snaked across the land and stopped for a rest as I spot an adjacent bridge which had obviously seen better days. It appears it was for the stock route which followed the road and again it had been a previous flood which had proven victorious. I take a look around and get close up to the river, wondering how I could sneak a dip in the brown water when the heavens begin to open up, first with a sprinkle of cooling rain before gradually getting harder. I grab my bike and seek refuge under the bridge holding the highway.
The rain gets harder and I begin to wonder if this would be my final destination for the day and I was already in my nights camp spot. Ironically if I hadn't stopped to check out the river I would be a few more kilometres up the road and soaking wet. While I sit there watching the rain water begins to pour in off the side of the bridge, into my possible camp spot and the small space where my tent would go begins to flood. I have to think fast and I grab a stick to frantically dig out a channel on either side directing the water flow towards the river. Mud flicking up on my clothes I work as fast as I can, grabbing rocks to make small dams it begins to work. The rain continues to fall and I am extremely smug about what I had just achieved as I sit back and watch the water run away from me and into the river.
The sky remains grey but the rain slowly eases. It is still have a few hours left in the day and in the course of time I choose to ride into the cool afternoon. With the wind now subsided its the only logical choice and I believe there is a rest area just up the road. Pushing my bike back to the road is a mission in itself, the ground is now soft and muddy and both my boots and my BMX sink into the mud collecting as much as possible on the way out. Puddles in the road make for light work in cleaning the mud as I ride into the cool rain soaked afternoon.
Everything is absolutely green and looks remarkably peaceful. Kangaroos gather in their masses in the fenceless surrounding forest and I sometimes forget I'm in cattle country until one bounds across the road in front of me.
Unsure of exactly how far the rest stop is I eventually start to think about finishing up for the day. I sit on the side of the road for a moment looking around at no shortage of suitable camp spots. I decide to navigate one more corner and, with fortune on my side for the second time today, a rest stop awaits.
Rest stops provide me with a table for the evening and this simple luxury adds a little comfort I would normally do without. Coupled with a wonderfully cool night a good night sleep is inevitable and depending on tomorrows weather, reaching Augathella only 35km away would be satisfactory.
The tranquillity of many Galahs and Kookaburras provides me again with a suitable alarm clock. Its 5:30am and I have stacks of time for packing up and having breakfast. I have come to really learn the importance of breakfast. Taking a few extra moments of a morning to do this right can make all the difference to the day ahead.
A truck driver in Charleville had told me its an uphill run all the way to Longreach and so far he seems to be correct. The road follows the contour of the land which leads into rolling hills and the forest thins out giving me a picturesque view. Today's headwind is minimal and morning progress sees me getting closer to Augathella sooner than I had anticipated.
I spot a most unusual tree just off the road. Its fascinatingly different to any other tree I have ever seen and later learn its called a bottle tree. As you might expect its shaped like a bottle and as I move forward I spot more and more across the countryside. They come in all sizes, tall, short, fat and thin each one catches my eye as I pass spotting them from the road both near and far.
Its only 10am when I seem my first indication of how far I am from Augathella. 'Augathella 25km, Home of the meat ant'. A lack of any real research as to where I was heading makes way for these daily surprises. No point in stopping now I ride to the end of the Mitchell highway. Turning onto the Landsborough highway, I will follow this road all the way to Cloncurry, 120km from Mt Isa.
Sitting in the shady park I'm given a chance to watch the few townsfolk go about their lives. Everyone seems relatively friendly but I sit and cant help but feel there might be a few uncle dads in town. I feel energised and even with ominous clouds coming from the north I make the decision the continue into the afternoon. I'm told about another rest stop 30km or so up the road and I feel like I can make it.
Its a bit of a sad looking rest area with no water, scarce trees and little grass. A Toyota Landcruiser sits under a tree in the corner and from what I can see the occupants look a bit shady. I wave with no response and setting up here makes me feel uneasy. Perhaps this is me keeping my wits about me or just unnecessary paranoia, never the less I will move up the road.
As it happens there are now few places to camp. The amount of trees have dwindled and thinned out and finding a spot proves difficult. Eventually I settle on a place behind some thin trees giving little protection from the road in some dry uneven dirt. Hunger has gotten the better of me and I cook a feast before even thinking about setting up my tent. While I do so, meat ants begin to congregate around my feet slowly taking away bits of vegetables and rice I had dropped. Strangely they leave me alone and unlike their smaller black ant cousins don't even bother climbing over my shoes. These are certainly clever ants. In my mind though I don't really care how clever these ants are I don't particularly feel like setting up my bed near a meat ant nest and once again I'm in pursuit of another camping spot.
For the first time I find myself riding in the late afternoon. Id ridden at dawn but was always where I needed to be by dusk. The traffic had died down to the odd road train, the wind let up and the pending sunset delivers much cooler air than the day. I have a magnificent view of the open countryside yet again. Covered in green grass, on top a crest I can see the vastness laid out before me. It never ceases to amaze me how I can simply turn a corner or over a crest and the landscape changes almost instantly. I'm left with only minimal light when I find my camp. Just off the road there are very little trees but long grass and the cover of darkness to hide me from the world. Better yet no ants, and with the sun disappearing the flies follow. An awesome day!
Perhaps due to yesterday evenings hyperactivity I have had a terrible sleep, woken by the whistling wind and my tent partially down in one corner slapping against my feet. I had camped in fairly soft ground and in the rush to set up in the final light I had failed to sink a peg in far enough. Every effort to make Tambo, 70km from where I camped, would be made today. The wind is as strong as its been so far and continues from the north.
I had made it further than I thought yesterday and soon into the morning I was only 60km from Tambo. A day off will be my reward having travelled 200km in three days keeping in the schedule of reaching Mt Isa for Christmas.
The wind was definitely strong and wearing me down fast. At times I lose my cool and yell, at the wind, a variety of swear words. This amounts to nothing except me having to calm down. On foot again the road flattens out and, in the blink of an eye, the trees are gone. Again exposed and tiring fast. The only pleasant vegetation are small purple flowers, sort of like little purple daisy's, in the grass along the road. Its a long, straight, flat road ahead of me, seemingly endless.
Into the wind the sun belts down as I seek out a tree. I have to walk a bit off the road across the dry ground, unsure of the thorn situation ready to ruin my day. I feel especially hardcore today out here as I sit and wave to the passing cars. All of them wave back, out here on my own I have never felt alone.
I try my hardest to continue across the flat as I near the horizon. The road begins a slight decline as I enter the Lake Eyre Basin.
The grand sky once again fills up with my afternoon friend the clouds, and perseverance gets me as further than I can imagine. In the last 20km the road swings around to the west easing the wind off my face and the end of the day is in sight. Another swarm of Kite Hawks flies overhead, perhaps these scavengers are sizing me up waiting for me to fail. Today was not their lucky day.
I had now travelled 1350km and was nearing the centre of Queensland. In retrospect the ride so far has been quite forgiving. Its easy to forget yesterdays adversity when the sun rises with a new day, every day.
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