Where oh where is Gulnare?

Finding the train to Melbourne took much longer then expected, and Dave was happy when it was finally all sorted. However, this delay pushed my departure time backwards also, and I wasn't on the bike seat until nearly 2pm, and unfortunately I still had 100km to ride. Finding my way through Adelaide was a nightmare with road closures galore in preparation for the upcoming V8 super-car races. My map was of terrible resolution, and I found it very difficult and time-consuming to find my way out. A few hours later I found myself surrounded by paddocks once more, but this time... they were filled with prickles. 6 punctures and hours later it was cold, dark and I couldn't find the camping grounds for which I was headed. This was my first experience by myself and I was worried and irritated. I found a small sports oval for a school in a tiny town and camped there, ready to be packed up before first light.

I woke up as scheduled in a determined mind-frame. The sun was out, my legs were fresh and I knew exactly where I was going. But... another four punctures later and I was fresh out of spare tubes. My tube repairing capabilities are limited and I was very concerned. To add to this worry, the trailer on my bike somehow managed to bend the back wheel axel on my bike, making it near impossible to ride. The weight of my problems and the trip itself were hanging on my shoulders and when I finally reached the Gulnare pub, I was shaking with exhaustion. It had been a hot, long day. The pub itself was the only building that I could see in town sill in operation. Old, sun-bleached buildings with the paint writing faded and peeling of the general store, hardware and post-office, stood seemingly forgotten in the main street. The pub however, had a fresh coat of paint and a small crowd of local smokers sitting down chatting loudly along the veranda. On cue they all fell quiet as I rode up to mount my bike against the pillar next to where they were sitting. This was my test. So I ordered a pint, introduced myself to everyone individually (in my most Australian manner), and sat down to join them. Within minutes they were quizzing me about my journey and sharing stories of their travels. They were all farmers and enjoyed the chance to scare me with horror stories of trips across the Nullarbor. 

The bar-tender Neil, and a few others invited me to a workshop, where my bike was looked-after and totally fixed. Then back to the pub to drink away my worries. I was left in the pub that night with the keys to all the locks, a shower, free beers, a place to sleep, power to charge my equipment, and a renewed enthusiasm for my adventure. 

I had been spoiled, and it couldn't have come at a better time.