Tuesday, September 3, 2019

Day 14 Springsure to Rolleston 70 km

I make breakfast at 6:30 am in the camp kitchen that is only metres from my tent. I take my time reading as I eat my muesli.

After I pack up my gear and start loading the bike I decide to pump up my tyres as it has been a week. Front wheel valve tears from the tube. The valve hole on the wheel has been drilled to take a Schrader (car) valve whereas I use the narrower Presta valves. This means I have to be careful not the push the valve too hard otherwise the valve tears from the tube. This happened once before - at Ceduna crossing the Nullarbor. I replace the tube and pump it up. I must remember to buy a new tube at Roma.

On the bike around 8:00 am. It is uphill and my legs are complaining. A rest day is overdue. Also today the road heads directly into the wind. On the map this road the Dawson Hwy heads east south east whereas the Gregory Development road that I have been in since Charters Towers heads South.

Stop and take a picture of a donkey in a mob of horses. It's ears are ridiculously long. It is less shy than the horses and come over to the fence to say hello

The wind is blowing and the sound is like standing next to a jet plane warming up on the tarmac. All morning there is this barrage of sound. It reminds me of when Tony and I cycled from Darwin to Broome. Around Timber Creek it was similarly noisy but we had a tail wind.

After some long climbs I reach a pass through the hills. I get off to check out the view and discover the "Stairway Range" lookout. It would have been a great place to camp. Nearby there are some bee boxes.
Bees!
Staircase Range Lookout - would have been a great campsite

From the lookout there is a rapid descent for 3 km. It would have been much faster but for the wind. At 35 km I come across a Rest Stop with a Shade shelter. Great I think, time for a break. It is 11:00 am and I haven't drunk anything since breakfast. I get out my stove and boil water for a cup-a-soup.

The flies here are really bad so I get out the "bushmans" and spray it on my arm and  legs. The flies sneer at me "ha we don't care about your fly repellent" and continue to multiply. A fly jumps into my soup. There is no waiter to hear my complaint.

As I sit there batting away the flies, drinking fly soup and reading, the Variety Club Bash starts to come past. It seems every vehicle has a fancy horn or siren and they feel they have to sound off when they see me. After some time  it gets annoying. All I want is some peace and quiet to enjoy my soup and flies. Fifty cars in row sound their horns or siren as they pass me.

I get back on the bike and continue to slog into the wind. I see tumbleweed  blowing across from left to right. About 10 km from Rolleston the road turns more easterly and the the tumbleweed is blowing right to left. Finally there is a t-intersection and Rolleston is 300 metres away. There is not much here, a pub and a petrol station general store.

I go to the pub and order a beer and a Barra burger and chat to a truckie. I am told the next leg of my journey has some big hills. This is the Carnarvon Range. Unfortunately I won't be able to detour to see Carnarvon Gorge.

The truckie tells me that the caravan park is very good at the same time complaining that the owner wants him to pay for using the facilities. He sleeps in his truck and uses their showers and kitchen.  The guy he is working for rents a 4 person cabin in the park and pays $2000 a week so the truckie thinks he should get access for free.

I check into the caravan park for 2 nights, I need a rest day before tackling the road to Injune. I'm glad I have a good book because I don't think there will be much else happening here tomorrow.

A motor cyclist (Mike? )has set up camp next to me. We get chatting - he grew up in Mount Waverley not far from where I grew up in North Clayton. He is 5 years older than me, a retired "chippie", he is on 4 day trip from Brisbane where he now lives. Seems like he has been everywhere on his motorbike that I have been on my pushbike.

A larger campervan is nearby our tents. It is occupied by a older couple. He has Parkinson's (his wife tells me later). He is clearly struggling just to walk. His wife comes and chats with us. She has machine gun delivery and scarcely pauses to draw breath but she is interesting.

They have driven all over Queensland on this trip and have passed me on the road several times in the last few days. Her husband drives an hour each day before he gets too tired and then she takes over. I am impressed as their camper is a big unit and she is tiny, she might be 5 foot (just) but I doubt she weighs 50 kg.

After she is gone Mike observes that the husband shouldn't be driving as his motor control is poor. It is a harsh call but the van is huge. They bought it because it sleeps 4 and they thought their children and grandchildren could use when they are not travelling.

We go to the pub for dinner and he gabs all through. I am happy when he decides to go back to the caravan park to watch to tv in the camp kitchen. I just want to read a book.







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