Left Rockhampton 7 O'clock and for the first time headed to WA. The main road out of Rocky splits at a big roundabout, like a prism separating the soot and noise of the east coast highway from the dreams of the road west. This road got ever quieter in stages of elation at the longer gaps between the purring, grinding and ominous hind traffic.
The country was golden brown round hills spotted with trees with burnt black trunks like the humps of a Brahman bull.
The riding was across flat and easy slopes for the most part but 50km from Duaringa a sharp range appeared that got my muscles aching and heating up to a fatigue. One hill just before town was a slow grind like an echidna scratching at hard earth. After summiting this hill, however, another steeper and longer hill appeared where the cars shrank in size as they tracked up the embankment. The man at the Post Office in Duaringa told me the story that upon sighting this second hill, a Japanese tourist had abandoned his broken down moped that he was pushing toward town.
In Duaringa there is a vast dirt parking area with hearths for open fires where the caravaners camp for free. Showers are free with a request for a gold coin donation. At this place I camped next to a bloke who with an off-road trailer camper made in Australia. He had had some high level jobs but had been on the road for over a year. He invited me for coffee and then a fine dinner of sausages and salad with balsamic vinegar.
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