Today was roasting hot. To explain how hot it is here, I've taken photos of my bike horn. The plastic/rubber outer layer had completely cracked and fell off through yesterday's heat. I am dreading to think about what the sun is doing to my skin and also my face, if its burning through the horn..
I had a bit of a sleep in and by around 10 I asked the girls in the roadhouse if they heard from the fella working in Yalata. I had been informed there won't be any work for a week at least, as there are currently three funerals happening at Yalata. From past stories I know how significant death is in Aboriginal communities and realise sorry business can go for a number of weeks. More importantly they probably wouldn't want some white fella walking around their community at such a sensitive time.
I was pushing it late but decided to head off. I left around 11am to take on the 150km ride. The difficult task with this is the winds have been strong and the heat very exhausting. I have now adapted to the heavy load on the bike, especially now I'm carrying an extra ten kg's of water.
On my ride I was pushing it hard. I have been informed that heavy fines apply to campers in Yalata land, and I've also been told to keep careful with my bike when camping as drunken by passers might try to take it. I didn't know how many of these comments would be relevant, as I know a lot of negative innuendo spreads about Aboriginal communities. When riding and looking at the vast amounts of natural bush land I gathered it would be hard for the Aboriginal guys to inspect every bit of it and I'd probably be right camping. The main reason I was pushing it hard was because I didn't want to be a trespass on their land. I sort of look at it like stealing, if I'm camping without a permit. I don't want to sleep on their land with out permission so really persisted through out the day on the bike.
On my ride I had a couple of really nice gentleman pull over to offer some help. First I had a Turkish man. This was crazy, he slowed down next to me and yelled out "How are you brother??" I said "Great!! Take care brother!". He went a bit ahead and pulled over. His accent was very thick and I here learnt he was Turkish. I tested my Turkish out and asked how e was. He answered and continue in English. He started offering me food, in particular fresh vegetables. I said thank you in Turkish, he was then surprised and asked if I was Turkish. I said no but that I've been over there and learnt a few phrases. As he continued grabbing me more food I was getting a bit worried about the weight. He gave me a big tin of fruit, a bag of pita bread, Afghan bread, around 1-5kg of fresh olives, half a kilo of a nut and sultana mix, 2 lemons, 5 onions and then a bag of tomatoes and cucumbers. When he gave me the cucumbers and tomatoes he had the bag full of water. He explained back in Turkey they did that to keep them fresh. I was worried about water getting in my bags so he then grabbed a few plastic bags and wrapped up even more. His actions reminded me exactly of a Turkish man working in a market, or any persons not accustomed to a western lifestyle for that matter, as he ran back and forth with speed and efficiency. A far cry from the lazy Australian women in a roadhouse last week who couldn't figure out how to put some noodles in the microwave. The man started looking for places on my bike to hang the olives, as I was running out of room. I couldn't believe how much he gave to me. He kept asking me to pray to Allah for him, so I started repeating "InsyaAllah". A phrase I learnt through travelling, meaning God willing. He was very friendly, and he than started talking Arabic to me. He actually thought I was a Muslim, and when I said I wasn't he was quite shocked. He pointed to my beard and said "What about your beard, look like Muslim". The thought went through my mind this man must have been a little nervous taking all these veggies across the border quarantine. I could tell this wasn't the only reason he was palming it off as he was genuinely a nice man. He repeatedly offered me a lift and with difficulty I had to decline. Was very tempting though..
Later on a Northern Irish gentleman stopped and gave me a few cans of soft drink. I drank them in two seconds, very cold and refreshing. I kept pushing and at around 135km in, 15km off the Nullabor roadhouse, I set up my tent in a parking bay area. I figured it was on the border of Yalata land so I'd be hard done by for trespassing. I also saw another camper van here an they believed it was fine for camping. This was good enough for me. I thought, this couldn't get any better, beautiful open bush land and free accommodation. I set up my tent yet was very difficult as the wind was blowing it away. After finally setting it up I asked the lady at the van for a bit of water to put in my bottle. She poured about half a glass full in there. I couldn't understand why she wouldn't fill the bottle up, just a small mount franklin one. I was grateful for the water but it made me think. It's hard to generalise, but an old Australian lady fails to give me a few hundred ml of water yet two foreigners pull there cars up from 110km to offer me anything they have.
After this I went back to my tent. Not long after the man came and offered me some left over food. That then put a smile on my face! I sat here in the wilderness having the old couples left over avocado in a pita bread wrap with olives and tomatoes from the Turkish man. Not long after my dinner I saw big set of eyes glaring off the full moon above. I grabbed my light only to realise it was a big dingo a few meters off my tent. This was a crazy sight, the first wild dingo I've ever seen. I realised its going to be a long night..
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