Goondiwindi to Millmerran – 90 miles

The first part of the route had some trees near to the road. As the sun rose in the east it meant that this foliage kept me shaded for longer, however, eventually we were back to open fields.

So I pedalled on thinking about the long ride as a series of 10 mile segments with each one being achieved as a meaningful step toward my destination.

Even though the wonderful Google Maps didn’t show them there were a few pull-ins en route. Usually there was a toilet that was just a deep pit and if there was a tap it ran dry. All I sought was shade and a place to sit down.

That looked terrific to me. One thing that bemused me was that as I’m sat there, in the middle of nowhere, drivers would stop to use the facility but wouldn’t acknowledge or talk to me. How can a nation be so incurious about something as anomalous as an old bloke on a heavy bicycle in 38°C miles resting up before he continues up the road where the nearest settlement is over 50 miles away?

I knew on the longer sections I need to carry extra water. I’d planned for this requirement back in York. On this ride I did work my way through my standard 2.6 litres of water and have to use this extra litre. Hydration is an obvious priority and even if the body doesn’t ‘tell you’ you need to keep drinking. One side effect of poor hydration is cramp; I had avoided it.

Eventually I got within 7 miles of Millmerran and a petrol station came into view, my first ‘oasis’ in over 80 miles. An ice cold Coke has no peers. It also came with a ‘where have you come from?’ and after the answer, a ‘No way!!’

I was staying in a cabin at a campsite. The internal dimensions of my hutch would have fractured the skull of Tiddles should I have engaged in animal cruelty and swung him round by his tail. It reminded me of the cabin you got on a sailing from Hull to Rotterdam.

The main campsite residents were the workers who spent the week locally at the power station or in coal mining. They’d be back a little after 3 or 4pm and away at around 5am next morning. What struck me was the similarity with the US Mid West. A hard working baked landscape where unfancy folk went about their work with few complaints and, in one way or another, kept the national economies ticking over. As a people they seemed politically disenfranchised, for example, how many in Brisbane, Sydney or Melbourne supported mining coal? Also the multitudes, many of whom looked different and originated from different parts of the world lived in these cities, had other political priorities and, more importantly, were a greater body of voters to excite and engage the politicians.

Inevitably these out of the way communities were more conservative yet more self sufficient, less aspirational, forbearing, older and certainly great contributors to the country rather than takers. Respect was due.

So I dined at the local pub and then Anna sent a WhatsApp asking if I’d seen my email? (She could read it all on my iMac in York.) I checked and my travel agent advised that Emirates had cancelled my homeward bound flights. Emirates also soon followed with a ‘Dear John’ billet doux.

I was regularly going to bed at 7.30 to 8pm. When this news came through I was just about ‘out of it’ and completely shattered despite being the kind of information that would wake you! An application for a refund was necessary and then the challenge of finding another flight route home was urgent and needed pursuing.

I couldn’t help, the brain had gone into ‘screen saver’ mode and I needed to sleep. Anna, as I crashed, found another flight, with Air France, via the USA, and booked it. This needed her to physically visit another travel agent in York, with cash (lots of it) to pay. For some reason this couldn’t be done digitally? Extracting a meaningful four figure some out of Lloyds Bank in York in readies immediately was another hurdle. She stoically chucked aside her day plans and delivered. Heroine. I’m a lucky man.

I woke to find all this was in place. However, Air France, my new airline, was to provide Gallic hurdles that I’d need to address in Brisbane.

One last bike ride now.