I woke up to a thick, uniform gloom and an ulterior sun somewhere to the East. Two ravens were arching their shadowy figures from perch to perch around my campsite.
I rode for a while and then suddenly the bike was dragging, as if it were climbing or against a headwind. However, then I got my first flat tyre. The side wall of the rim on the rear wheel had torn out at the seam, and a jagged edge had pierced the tube from below.
I packed everything slowly to give me time to think out in the middle of nowhere. I thought about packing essentials into the small backpack and trying to walk. But it was too far.
Bronwyin and Neville, a couple of retirees, pulled over in their 4WD and sturdy camper trailer with a front ledge for firewood upon which the bike could fit. I told Neville that I did not feel comfortable asking them for a lift. He replied, 'We're Aussies mate. We look after each other'.