Borroloola - Burketown

I was awake well before sunrise to pack everything to perfection. Unfortunately the shop in Borroloola sells only junk food, so I packed my lollies, muesli-bars  and other sweets into my trailer - not the kind of sustenance I was hoping for. 

I hoped on my bike and started to turn the peddles. It was going to be a long day. 

One by one the km's started to accumulate behind me. The dirt road was smooth, hard-packed and shaded. I was flying! This was going to be easy! This was going to be... oh wait on... 25km's in and here come the hurdles. The grader driver must have given up after 25km's. Bummer. 

It was difficult for me to gauge how long I should expect to be riding as the road conditions improved and deteriorated constantly. One moment I would be singing out triumphantly whilst cruising down the road, and the next moment I would be whinging and whining about the slow 4 km/hour crawl. It took some time before I relaxed to except that this was what it's all about. Before long I was even enjoying the challenges of the road, and the scenery that I was totally immersed in. 

The river-crossings were mostly knee-deep, and I would take my shoes off to walk across. Yes, there were a few cheeky crocodile eyes watching me from the depths of crystal clear pools, but the crossings were always clear and safe. I even chanced a dip in a few glorious rivers where I felt confident it was safe. 

The weather was scorching hot and I took the river-crossings as opportunities to fill my water-bottles and hydrate before moving on. I was drinking about 9 liters per day. 

So buzzing with a cloud of flies in tow, I persevered into Queensland and finally rolled into Hells Gate Roadhouse. I was dirty, smelly and in desperate need of a cold drink. I didn't care if it was urine, if it was cold, I wanted it. The water in my bottles would heat up at a ridiculous rate making drinking a chore rather then a pleasure. 

The 40km's prior to reaching the Roadhouse was the worst road to date. The road was as wide as a main city highway, but a sandy nightmare. The bull-dust was so fine  that it seemed to act as a vacuum to drag my tires down to the depths of Earth. Hence I spent many many hours pushing/dragging/yelling at my bike as I moved on at an all-time record slow speed. It was gruel. 

When I arrived at Hells Gate, I bought myself a cold lemonade and sat in the shade of a tree to soak it up. Hells Gate didn't have any reception or a public phone so calling mum and dad was out of the question. I was also out of luck with any cooked food or friendly service. So I paid my $6 for camping and took a long, icy-cold shower with a scrubbing brush. 

It was here that I met Sarah, a 42year old woman walking from Siberia to Tasmania. Sarah was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. Her philosophy was deep and thorough, and she was both tough and beautiful. We set up our tents next to each others in preparation for the upcoming commotion: the Variety Bash were on their way. 

One by one the old cars of the Variety Bash pulled in and immediately started drinking alcohol. Many people were already drunk. 

I managed to get my slimy tentacles on a cold beer and Sarah and I even scored a delicious feast for dinner that night. Taking dinner from a charity? I have no shame.

The next day I was refreshed, happy and healthy enough to cycle 145km's over the dirt and to my surprise some partially sealed road into a run-down roadhouse (I forgot the name and it is not on my map!). The girl behind the counter served me the cold drink that I was purchasing, and decided to throw in some free accommodation out of sympathy. Beauty! So I rested, charged my batteries and relaxed ready for the short ride into Burketown. So far, the Savannah Way was treating me well. 

                                                                               RIP

                                                                                  What an unimpressive Sate sign!

                                                                 Chicken or 'King Fisher Camp'? Bummer

                                                                            Sarah with her Trolley