Last push to Norseman... and back to civilization!

Wake up.

Tent hot.

Too hot.

Pack bags.

Pack tent:

Outside pegs,

Unlock clips,

Inside pegs, 

Fold,

Roll,

Shove,

Swear,

Shove a bit more....

Swear a bit more...

Argh, the morning ritual, wearing a bit thin through endless repetition. But... running like an occasionally oiled machine none-the-less. 

This particular day I was up with sun, packed, pumped and ready to ride Australia's longest dead-straight road: the 146.6km stretch. 

I had wind blowing up my back-side helping me ride through the straight, and indeed all the way to Balladonia. 

With the wind helping me along I made the decision to see the ride out, stopping only to visit the little boys room/bush. I did stop at the one toilet on the road which was a small box housing a hole with an official sign above it saying: 'if waste does not go down, please push it down with provided stick'. As my eyes followed the arrow to the left of the room, I did indeed find a stick, plucked straight from the tree outside the cubicle, with some rope wrapped around the 'handle' for the finishing touch. Very classy. 

Apart from that I ate from the saddle, drank from the saddle and worked my little legs harder then ever, resulting in my timely arrival in Balladonia, 182km's later.

Upon entering the roadhouse, I ordered two of the biggest meals on offer, and washed them down with a plate of dessert. Much to the horror of the young waitress. My wallet also shook its head in shame. But my stomach was an empty petrol tank in need of some premium fuel!

I split the 192km, hilly ride to Norseman into two days, 150km's in one, and the rest the next day, passing Noreseman halfway to Esperance. 

The scrub gave way to trees once more, and I was suddenly in a beautiful forest for the remainder of the trip.

The Nullarbor had been an adventure for me. A barren, sandy expanse that taught me a lesson or two on what my body needs from the outside, and what I'm made of inside. It was an accomplishment.