Day 9 – Flies on the flat

Even the telephone pylons ended 3 miles further on

There really isn’t a lot to say about the actual cycling today. It was simply one single 83 mile crossing from Hay to here and above is the only picture I took. For the overwhelming majority of the day that is what it looked like in front and behind me. Flat and featureless. In fact for three or four hours in the middle of the day it was so treeless it started to play with my mind. Know people say it does, but to be honest I thought they were exaggerating. They’re not.

If I was in one of the ten mins breaks in traffic, I could see two odd miles up and back down the road to nothing, and even though I was cycling, it started to feel as if I was going nowhere. Hard to explain, but it’s a surreal feeling. Any kind of road sign, farm or tree was a godsend to mark my movement by.

Shame I'm in town too early
for the big concert

For most of the bleakest part of the day I was feeling rather light headed, which probably didn’t help. I over pushed my right knee battling headwinds yesterday. The pain was so intense  cycling first thing, genuinely thought my breakfast was going to come back up. Thinking it’d bed in for the day as I rode on it I carried on, but finally succumbed to taking pain killers from my first aid kit bought in the states (e.g. serious strength) mid morning. I then basically got the timing between doses muddled up in the heat, and dived back in too early. Pretty sure in hindsight I spent a good hour in the middle of the day slightly high, in a deeply hallucinogenic landscape. It was heck of a combination.

Lucky my mind remained occupied by bastard flies. The wind has come right off today, and tucked in behind me for most of it and although warm it’s not vile hot. This must be peak fly conditions. It was the worse day for flies a country mile. There is something almost insufferably grotesque about looking back over your shoulder to see five or ten of these flies huddled on your upper back ready to buzz round onto the corners of your mouth, your nose and your eyes as soon as they the wind breaks for a second.

Cyclist cum beekeeper

Stopping for more that ten seconds was also a no go as 30 or 40 would swarm round your head. Whilst my new cycle glasses (bought in Griffith to replace the Raybans, RIP) kept them out the eyes it was maddening stuff. Luckily when I made it into Balrandald got chatting to a road worker, who spotted my flicking my arm around and recommended I get a head net from the hardware store. So that’s what I’ve done. Pretty sure wearing the headgear right will make me look a little unhinged, but if it keeps the flies off my face I’m all in.

On the positive side finally feel like I’m making good progress. The sun rises and sets a noticeable 30/40 mins behind Sydney, and for the first time people in this town sound surprised that I’ve ridden from Sydney (albeit destination Perth is still getting strange looks). Both last night and tonight are in great little outback towns. Self contained bubbles of a particularly intense form of Australian culture. Dinner tonight was next door in the ex-servicemen’s club, I was the only one without grey hair in there. With a bank of pokies (slot machines) in the corner of the cavernous bar cum restaurant, bingo cards ready on the table, road trains rumbling down the main street outside, past bottle shops doing swift business and the Aboriginal Health Centre, all coloured with that strange blend of the wild and the suburban, you really couldn’t be anywhere else.

Salt, pepper, bingo

Miles: 83. Hay, Balranald

Breakfast – Standard tray breakfast in the motel room

Lunch – Chicken and turkey sandwiches, bought at Roberston’s bakery in Hay at sunrise (they all seem to open super early), and wolfed curb side in a hurry to avoid flies. Good sandwiches.

Dinner – Schezen chicken and steamed rice. Balranald ex-Servicemen’s club. Poor food, proper location.