Nearly two-thirds of the way through this ride and the end begins to feel within reach. I know it is where I want to be, but unsure for how long. As the scenery flattens to barren plains and the days headwinds persist I won't deny that the predictable is something to long for. However in the evenings, as the sun lowers to the right as a full moon rises to the left, there is nowhere else I would rather be. This is what I can be sure of, day to day. This is my predictable. As home draws nearer to my thoughts I think of what I will change. I think of what I'll remember. Does a trip like the truely give one new eyes permanently? I have photos to aid memory, but will I truely remember the beauty of the sun in Kakadu as it rises above a crocodile filled billabong before bright green floodplains which stretch until bordered by a sacred escarpment? Or having Jim Jim falls to myself as I tried to have the same respecis countries indigenous did for all they received? Will I be more accepting after the confusion as four inches of rain came down upon my head just outside Katherine where I didn't set up my tent as I was told it wouldn't rain until December? What of the overwhelming feeling of riding down into valleys of cliffs that fall away until caught by hills near Victoria River as the scenery grew more beautiful every metre into the Kimberleys? Will I change having known the generosity of the people on board a tour bus I met once at Victoria River then again at Turkey Creek? Will I have grown stronger in patience and will from crossing the border into W.A. in 44 degree heat with flies sticking to my face? There is everything to learn, but it takes more to change. I do however doubt there was much to be taken from the man towing a car and a dog with two camels he had very limited, well, let me be honest, no control over. "No Charlie, No!" He cried towards a camel transfixed on some flowers in the opposite direction. No words would have helped. The camel went, and with it took the other camel, a dog and a man full of useless orders. The Kimberleys breath hungry scenery of distant cliffs scattered with trees as soft, delicate shadows stole mine, but for moments only. Will it last beyond over exposed photos? The crocodiles are gone now, and Ravenshoe has long since been conquered. There are fears I now have, for such moments to have effect beyond short weeks of return.
Beyond the Kimberleys I arrived at Fitzroy Crossing to watch the preliminary final (afl). Here I met Meredith who is volunteering with the fantastic programs running within the community, and her daughter Emma. I was treated to lunch and a swim at the only pool in town! It is amazing to be in temperatures over 40degrees where no water restrictions apply as people casually hose cars, driveways, anything that doesn't move. The preliminary seemed to be decided by half time so my eyes claimed victory and I headed to bed. With headwinds that threatened to set fire to my skin I rode off the next morning with 23L of towns endless water supply from a river that flows with 8.25 million cubic meters annually which, at peak flood could fill Sydney harbour in 21hrs! I hope they didn't mind. That night I met a man who walked around Australia in 1948. I'm sure he'd have an incredible story, if only he could remember it! The next few days were spent growing tired of canned food, noodles and headwinds until...Broome! Here I spent many hours playing the German version of 'Uno' with Robert, Chris, Thomas (all German) and Katia (French). Explaining the game to Katia began with a certain amount of difficulty though. "It's 'Uno'" "You know what?" etc. etc. However within a few hours she had us playing the french version! The sunset over Cable Beach was more beautiful and rewarding than I could have ever hoped. After the Grand Final it was unfortunately time to leave and rediscover my own company. I left Broome and sickness hit, and hit hard. Barely halfway between the 600km ride to Port Hedland I could hardly ride anymore. Stitches, cramping and I struggled to hold any food down. A man who pulled up to see if I was ok turned out to be a commisioner of police and soon the local (by that I mean from an indigenous community within 100kms) police arrived and threw me in the back to Sandfire roadhouse. Here I was inspected by ambo Mick who gave me a check up and refused to let me ride to Port Hedland. The Royal Flying Doctor Service (no I didn't go in a plane) then had me in a curtosy bed for the night (with air con!) and the next morning was spent sourcing a life to Port Hedland. It seems I was hydrated enough but had sweated out all my sodium, potassium, magnesium etc. So it was off to P.H. in a caravan convoy where $35 for a tent site in the caravan park was sacraficed for another sprinkler soaked night in a town park. Headwinds out of town turned to crosswinds for a day (resulting in a sore arm from just keeping the bike straight) but then the tailwinds befan! Still not setting up my tent a spider bite was a little worrying at night, but I woke in the morning so that was ok. As I swam in the Robe River for a lunch break beyond Karratha two cyclists stopped on the bridge above. I didn't call out for fear of looking like a mad man and they soon rode on. Sure enough, a few kms down the road I caught them. They were Doris and Matthias, a German couple who spend their holiday time cycling between Australia and Namibia. We rode toether for the rest of the day which made the kms pass quickly though the scenery was quite well summed up by Doris with "only in Australia can you find so much of nothing!" The roads however were rather busy with mining cars and trucks (it must be company policy not to wave. After we departed company that evening the scenery began again and I camped amongst fields of spinifex as the full moon rose over distant mountains. The following evening Helen, an English backpacker stopped me with a present curtosy of Doris and Matthias...a cold bottle of soft drink! The ride to Coral Bay began with tailwinds then within 10kms had become crosswinds, then within 20, headwinds. Not your average headwind, but the worst I had ever ridden in. Out of the seat I battled with them for nearly 40kms until with 20 of Coral Bay. An early morning cruise into town awaited. However as I woke to a chilly morning with only a slight breeze in the air and packed up, before I even made it out of the field and onto the road, my trailer snapped for a third time! After the one hour cruise turned into a 3 hour, windy and rather cold wait (Do people really think I get up out of my seat, wave with two arms, point to my bike and then stick out my thumb as a way of saying hello? I would more likely be sending a coded message to UFO's saying I need a lift) I found my lift through a couple heading on a one day, 1300km trip home. (Almost all travellers I meet now are done with their holidays and rushing home, it's a strange way to finish such a relaxing time. Maybe we overstay our welcomes on holidays too). In Coral Bay it was off to find a welder. Fortunately I was put in contact with Bill-John and Albert (fixers of everything that goes wrong in the caravan park) who welded it up for free! After a snorkel amongst the beautiful coral and tropical fish I am as ready as I'll ever be for the road again. To learn, to discover, to teach, to suffer, to achieve...
As Helen had handed me the bottle of drink that evening she had said 'I will never complain again!' It would be easy for me to say I won't, that I have been tested to my limits. But limits are only discovered when exceeded, and maybe it is then that life isn't taken for granted permanently.
I will not forget what I have learnt of the problems within Australia, and my confidence in the solutions will only grow. It is everything else, unrelated, that I didn't expect from this trip. I know what there is to learn from all this, and I know what I plan to change, I just hope my new eyes do not forget or grow lazy upon return to a more sterile society.