Found that with the high winds, I didn't want to try lighting up the stove. Sitting in a sea of dry grass, windy, lighting a fire - no way. But needed to use my pasta up, as I didn't have enough non cook items to get me to the next town.
Soak it!
Yep, it worked. Soaked overnight, it was edible in the morning. If I waited until evening, it started fermenting though. Still edible - just a bit fizzy.
Add milk powder, or curry and yum.
The water is sweet, the pasta a bit tasteless.. That is what the milk powder or curry is for.
Found the same with my breakfast - rolled oats, desiccated coconut and dried dates. Best to eat it before lunch. By the evening, its fermenting. Again still edible, just a bit fizzy.
I use peanut butter jar to soak food in. When the food starts fermenting, the containers swell - so could leak. Make sure they are standing upright in the panniers..
Didn't stop in Cloncurry, known as Curry to the locals. After four days of not very many people, it seemed crowded at the Foodworks on a Sunday. Decided to head to Julia Creek. Give me a bit more time to think about which way I'm going.
This might be sounding monotonous, but it was steady days of cycling at 15km/hr into the wind. Yep, its windy and all directions I want to go, are into it. The land around here is big open flat planes. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to stop the wind.
Ended up camped near a creek, that had a bit of water in a few holes. Watched all the birds come for a drink. With 33C temps, and windy, its hot.
Stopped in Julia Creek now, as the forecast has 7km winds. But the observation is 32km/hr with gusts up 43km/hr.
Its dry here. Hasn't rained in three years. The locals are hoping for some rain this year. Cause, when that happens, it will be a flood.
I left Normanton about 4am. Just couldn't sleep. Went to bed early, not feeling the best. Then kept waking all night. So at 3am, decided to do something about all the cool, still weather. Packed up and I was off.
When the sun peeked over the horizon, I saw that I was on a sea of golden brown grass. With the increased light, increased wind. Sailing I was. Not the skip across the wave tops type, nor the lazing about on deck with a glass of something alcoholic. This was the labouring into the wind type of sailing.
I'd managed 50km by sun up. Three hours - not bad. The next 50 took 5 hours. A much slower pace. I had two car drivers stop. One gentleman, whose name escapes me now, picked me up with tea and lamingtons. A real life saver. I'd been feeling not the best still. But after this, I was almost back to normal.
The next driver to stop was Jim of Free Scotland. His gift was stuff from heaven; cashews, peanuts and dried banana chips. Thanks Jim - they lasted two days.
I'd called it quits for the day not long after waving off Jim. Too hot. Found a solitary bush to shelter behind.
Next day, was a repeat; without the early rising, or the drivers stopping. A steady day of 15km/hr into the wind was itinerary. Seven hours to the Burke and Wills Roadhouse for a couple of burgers. Avoid being trampled at the counter by large mammalian creatures, then on another hour to find a campsite away from the crowds.
No surprise the next day was a repeat. Steady day of pedalling into head winds. I tried a few times if walking was faster; no. I also tried tacking across the road. Seemed to help, but then it didn't. Just keep pedalling..
Stopped at a pub outside of Cloncurry, but it was too early. Just had to keep going...
Was feeling a bit down a couple of mornings ago when I started cycling for the day. Thinking of all the people I've known, stuff that they have done or not done, my hopes, wishes and dreams for them. sighs
This poem I think sums it all up.
Empties Cuming Back
have you ever sat by the railroad track
and watched the emptys cuming back?
lumbering along with a groan and a
whine—
smoke strung out in a long gray line
belched from the panting injun’s stack
—just emptys cuming back.
i have—and to me the emptys seem
like dreams i sometimes dream—
of a girl—or munney—or maybe fame—
my dreams have all returned the same,
swinging along the homebound track
—just emptys cuming back.
Sitting at the table in Croydon, having lunch, I spied another cycle rider in the distance. In the wavering heat it looked like he was hunch backed. I waited, but he stopped at the shop. Impatient I rode down to see who it was.
And so I met, who I'll call the Mad German. He looked a bit like Santa Claus, the thinner version, but after he'd been pulled on the sled through the bush, on a typically Aussie Christmas day. Bits of leaf, dust and salt matted his face, hair and clothes. He couldn't stop still; like a flea on a hot plate. He was also very busy with the camera. We talked for a few minutes. I got from him that he was doing about 150km a day, had ridden across the Barkley Tablelands, and wanted to get on to Canberra and Melbourne. He had his holiday and was in a rush. He'd also travelled a lot overseas. Then with a wave, he was off. I'd not even gotten his name.
The hunch back appearance in the distance was the backpack he had on. Not sure what was in it though. He carried 10 litres of water to my 24.
After he left, I had a look at myself in the bike mirror. Hmmm. We probably didn't look that different. To fix that I had a quick splash of water over my face in the toilet block, raked out my hair and washed out my shirt. It dried in less than 5 minutes. I felt better.
Now its a rest day in Normanton. When I planned to come out here it was a nice 25C max. Now as I look at the weather forecast, I think I've run out of cool weather.
