|Journal for 30-Aug-2003 : Timber Creek+130|
I know I keep bleating on about the scenery along the Victoria river but it really is fantastic. Without the need to do a huge distance today we were slow to get going, and Linda wasn't quite as motivated before Lunch. I wasn't motivated after. Even the great scenery and strangely shaped Boab trees proved insufficient inspiration.
Not marked on our maps, and not there five years ago is a you-beaut new solid two lane road bridge over the Victoria River that is no on any maps. Unlike the highway bridge this one won't be unusable for several weeks each year during the wet. However there is a barbed wire gate at the other end, and a "property of the Australian Defence Forces: Keep Out" sign. I've no idea where it goes, and even if I did, I wouldn't be publishing it on the net! The ADF have conceded that keeping a 200m bridge across a popular fishery right next to Highway 1 a secret was a bit of a touch ask, so the public is allowed to wander over the bridge to take a photo (of the river).
The road flattened out but a light tailwind had us at the East Baines Rv rest area, which is well away from the East Baines Rv. We didn't meet up with Jochin as I'd hoped, just a gruff caravan lugger. He all but accused us of lying about our daily average and seemed to be angling for me to pin a medal on him for slowing down behind another cyclist rather than crashing into an oncoming road train. Quite happy to leave that guy at "his" rest area (with poo) for the night.
Long stretch between the East Baines and West Baines Rv with lots of subtle (very subtle) vegetation changes. We ate lunch in the shade (very rare) at the dry West Baines Rv crossing. All the boab saplings seem to be flowering. Also, there is a type of fungus up here (looks like cow dung) that is so strong it often growns up through the bitumen. We also seemed to enjoy some Trueman show weather, with a tiny cloud blocking the sun for us while tracking our every move. Very hot again, so a long mostly liquid (water only) lunch the order of the day. The light tailwind swung around the wrong way as a willy willy spun through the nearby trees.
The road climbs up to the Saddle Ck rest area (9 vans in there already) through a spectacular range of red cliff hills (can't locate the name), which felt like riding though the gates of Mordor. These hills can be seen for miles in either direction.
We rode on past the rest area and found a camp up a station track with much lees human poo (plenty of cow dung though) and twenty seven million, three hundred and forty seven thousand flies, minus three.
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