Wednesday 11th April.

   Up at the crack of dawn, 6:15, and pack up camp before the sun comes over the horizon. 20deg this morning at 6am. From the weather reports on the radio last night, today is going to be a hot one.

   As I packed up this morning, I noticed that the stuff sack for the ground mat had the stitching on one end unraveling so badly that the whole end panel was just hanging on. Photo number 152, that I took last night with the "Trespassers Prosecuted"  sign on the paddock gate clearly visible in the background, shows the damage quite clearly. There are a couple of other small "issues" with the equipment so a few days layover in Hawker will be needed to sort it all out. So far, it looks like 3 steps forward and 2 steps standing still. Still, I always intended the early days to be the learning curve both for me (my body) and the equipment. And I had promised myself that I would spend some time stopping to "smell the roses".

   I have spoken to Roger at length about the non-performance of  the amateur radio and I will need to do some work building a new antenna. The long line antenna needs a very good "earth" connection to be effective and with the 100 year drought that is currently baking the outback, the bone-dry ground is not a good enough conductor to become part of my long line antenna system. Roger will post me a ferrite core, some wire and instructions and I will wind a "balun" and build a portable di-pole antenna to operate on the 40 meters band. This will also improve the readability of  the voices coming in by reducing the effect of some of the background noise.

   I wasn't the only one on the road early. Just after the sun came up, I heard a vehicle slowing up as it approached from behind me. I waited till it came alongside and then I recognised Graham who I had met a few days ago. He told his sad tail of riding his bike for 5km along the Mawson trail with the intention of riding and camping for several days. By lunchtime he had had six punctures and in the end gave up and walked the bike back to the caravan park at Quorn. He is driving ahead now in his self contained, closed in, ute and will park at Wilpena and "do" several trips around there on his bike, staying on the roads all the time. I waved him good luck as he drove off and thought myself lucky that I had ditched the bike idea sooner rather than later.

                  

   The township of Gordon was surveyed around 1880 and survived "droughts and flooding rains" with the school eventually closing in 1928. On this day, as I walked amongst the few remaining walls standing without roofs I could imagine the children's voices as they ran wild round the school yard. There are a large number of town and station ruins in this part of Australia where the early pioneers were attracted to the large, low cost (or free) tracts of grazing land. The railway even came to town providing a 4 hour restful trip to Port Augusta for a weekend socializing and shopping. Mining in the area also helped to supplement the grazing but even with both the town, like others in the area, were not to survive.

   "G'DAY!"

   I had not heard a vehicle behind me and was startled out of my dream time by a loud, friendly greeting. I turned to see three cyclists, Lycra and all, right behind me and slowing to a stop. Further back down the road, coming from Quorn, were several more. And way back were more still.

  "Hi, we heard you were up ahead. How're you finding the heat?"

   I had hardly noticed that it was very hot. I had taken 15 minutes or so off looking around the ruins of Gordon and then just ambling along thinking how tough it was for the pioneers. They didn't have any chilled water or light weight backpacks and tents. And no radios even, let alone TV. In fact, most of the year, they didn't have any water at all. Often going several years without any rainfall. 

   "Actually, I hadn't noticed." I said, squinting up at the ball in  the clear blue sky. "But now that you mention it, its warming  up alright."What are you guys up to?" I asked, although one of the riders was a lady with a gorgeous smile.

   "We're on a 30 day cycle from Gulf to Gulf, Port Augusta to Karumba on the Gulf of Carpentaria." "How about yourself?"

   "You'd be the group that rode up through here this time last year?" I asked.

   "Sort of. It is a supported tour and it is the same company running the ride this year but none of us were on last year's trip."

   The penny dropped. This was actually the same tour company that had made the trip last year, finishing at the beginning of May, 2006 and I had heard the interview on the Brisbane ABC radio just under a year ago. Here I was face to face with effectively the very event that inspired me to take on my walk. It was a special moment. Then the next batch of riders were pulling up and some were taking out cameras.

   After pictures all round, and they were on their way the next group came along and the conversation started all over again. They were all ages and fitness levels and I could see that some of them were glad of the stop and take the opportunity to get off their bike. Imagine 30 days on a bike seat. Ouch.

                  

   When they had all passed and I was settling back into my routine a car, coming from behind, slowed to a stop 100 yards up and pulled off the road. Nothing happened for a minute as I got closer, then the driver's door opened and a 40 something, slightly unfit bloke hopped out and looked around. I couldn't work this one out. Then, the passenger's door opened and a smaller, younger man emerged carrying something in each hand and crossed the road and came towards me.

  Now I'm not usually slow to catch on, but this was unexpected. He had a "gadget" on his hip supported by a shoulder strap and in his right hand was obviously a microphone with a big, black, foam wind screen on it. Even with all these obvious clues, I had no idea.

   I still could think of no reason why they chose to stop near where I was walking, do nothing for a minute or so then walk directly towards me. And at the time, I  had not related this to the stone throwing episode, it did not cross my mind. I was just curious.

   "What are you here for?", I remember my question well. It is not even very sensible question.

   The answer came back with a beautiful, heavy French accent. "I am here for you. Could I interview please?"

   I still didn't get it. There was just not enough information. Ok, so I am walking across Australia. I am actually seeking publicity. But what the heck? Is someone going to drive out here and poke a microphone in my face? In the first week? From France?

   He had to cough up the whole story before we could do anything like a reasonable interview. The vehicle was being driven by Peter Solley, the CEO of the OutBike company. With him was the Frenchman with the microphone and the tape recorder over the shoulder. The French journalist was traveling with the group interviewing the individual cyclists as they went along gathering their stories for a documentary he was putting together in France called "Follow Your Dream".

   I can imagine most people thinking about their cycle trip across Australia as a "dream" adventure, and I understood the appeal of the resulting documentary of these and similar stories. But, I never had a "dream" to cross Australia on foot. I just like the outback and when this idea popped into my head I, pretty well, "just did it".

   But now the tape was running and I was into my first interview. He eventually got me to say that I was "Following my dream" even though I did not feel that honestly described my walk. But it sure made him happy for me to say his magic phrase and he even asked "Could you say that again please?" So I said something like "I finally got to follow my dream after extensively planning for nearly a year." I have since tried to track down this journalist but without success. If you know him please ask him to contact me via this web page.

   I came across another town ruin, this time it was Wilson. There were the remains of a few buildings and the stonework was amazing to look at. They must have carted the stone for miles as there was no obvious supply around the countryside. This town was surveyed and proclaimed in 1881 and was carved out of pastoral land for farming "As a result of a decade of excellent rains and many good seasons during the 1870s". There was no natural water supply and an optimistically estimated rainfall of 30cm per annum. It was doomed from the start but remarkably lasted until the last resident left in 1954 with hopes raised every five years or so with good rains and harvests of wheat. Looking around now you have to wonder how it was even considered possible. There is barely enough rainfall to support the hardy scrub.

   Around 3 o'clock another car coming up from behind me slowed and stopped. It was the lady from the IGA supermarket in Quorn who always had a few minutes to listen to my chatter at the checkout. She just stopped to wish me luck.

   The countryside had started to build up into the Black Jack Range to the east and the Yourambulla Range to the North West. It was far more interesting than the endless low shrub plains of yesterday and this morning.

   I set up camp just north of the Wilson township ruins about 14km south of Hawker. It'll be an easy walk into Hawker in the morning.

  Lovely fire and exquisite sunset. Beef noodles/vegetable soup for dinner and as a special treat I finished off with a up of coffee. The temperature cooled down quickly enough and I settled in for  a good night's sleep after walking 25km. No radio contact tonight as I was able to talk to Bill on the cell phone getting a strong signal from Hawker.