The moment between walking out of the bush and peddling off on my bike is exhilarating. Should a car roll by to catch that moment, my guilt is proven. If not, I am no doubt just a cyclist that started in the last town - most would assume that. The only record of my roadside transgression is this blog and the imprints of my waffled foam sleeping pad on the sand and fallen gum tree leaves.
My goal this day was Bordertown, 15 km from the Victoria Border. Towns and settlements along the way were more prevalent, giving me the impression that I traveled further than I actually did. The high-pitched whine of go-carts greeted my arrival in Bordertown. Clearly this Saturday was race night for local young aspiring race car drivers that whipped around the track at 35 to 45 mph. Their oversized helmets on their small bodies made them look like seriously competitive modern-day hobbits.
One of my great joys on this ride has been buying a quarter or eighth of a watermelon at the end of the day. It’s certainly not practical or possible on the Nullarbor, but a must when in a town of any size. I had one in Bordertown. I also took advantage of fresh lamb, butternut squash and zucchini. I had nothing that came from a can or that could keep indefinitely that night.