To view something as a whole is to see it for its beauty. To change something, it can not be viewed the same. It must be broken down. From the ugly to the man-made flaws, they must be exposed and understood, then will they become vulnerable to change. If something is not simple it simply hasn't been broken down enough. Complexities only exist in the minds of those who want change yet view from a distance that is seemingly comfortable and safe but unknowingly uneducated. Complexities only spread to solutions when the tongues attached speak with uneducated haste. As those complexities rise slowly like a wave they eventually tumble with the faith of those who once believed in the removal of these flaws scattered upon beauty.

Now in Adelaide in the middle of a heat wave the cold, damp nights beyond Coral Bay, upon recollection gather as a not-so-distant memory that is hard to revisit. As I passed below the 'Tropic of Capricorn' the trip began to develop a rounded feel. Rejoining Hwy 1 I soon rediscovered the company of Matthias and Doris who were travelling slower due to Matthias' cold. A catch up and the second goodbye soon turned into a third as my rear tyre decided it was time to join the shredded truck tyres beside the highway. Following the road south the return of crops and the a store with fresh fruit towards Carnarvon was the most welcome of sights. To find out beyond Carnarvon that there was no drinking water until Geraldton was not the most comforting of news. The headwinds continued and I tried to look to the future. The light at the end of an arid tunnel. In one month I saw the Nullarbor-little consolation. Everyday I found myself dreaming of destinations. The journey had lost its place outside weary sunsets. The eternal longing of a cyclist for what is beyond reach had settled where I had wished it wouldn't (or maybe I am no cyclist if I was to think this). I had lost the sound of productive thought amongst the sound of headwinds and roadtrains. Car horns in this sparse land just sound like depression laced with unreleased violence. Car horns in city traffic sound like unnecessary frustration which sound like home. I needed something on my mind, just not this. When on such deserted roads the purpose of the trip was to fade and I was joining dots. The world moved by at 20km/hr, the things that suggested nothing had changed beyond the desert borders at 110km/hr. Headwinds became near unbearable and as I passed under the sign marking my leaving of the 26th parallel I though I was to be happy to be leaving the North for good. Progress. But all this graffitied sign meant to me was another average lunch. By Overlander Roadhouse the huge amount of goats beside the road (yes, the rare LIVE animal) were becoming out populated by sheep (no don't think green pastures-desert, dust, stunted trees, thorns and shrubs. Certainly not farmed for their wool now stained and littered with all). Another roadhouse, another loaf of frozen white bread. The truck drivers 'won't eat anything else'. For me this knowledge, along with the memory of a truckie starting to yell over no water to wash his face totally shattered the 'hardened aussie male' image associated with these men behind large, deadly bullbars and grills. I couldn't help but imagine whispered requests for removed crusts and little triangles. More roadhouses and with more water refused I went on the search for caravans and fotunately found some with spare. Denying myself a caramel slice was a silly idea and soon led to craving through passive addiction. Watching a caravan taking out its door on a tree while searching for the best campsite of a very limited rest area kept my mind from the whistling in my ears. Towards the beautiful town of Northampton I was overtaken by a caravan with duct tape for hinges. Being one day late for the 'Airing of the Quilts' in Northampton which Andy, an English turned Aussie said was 'more English than English', it was also now a Sunday, turning the town of a grand old church and quaint shops into more a ghost town, with only the sound of a wet southerly to fill empty streets. Geraldton came and with it what should (hopefully) be the final welding job on bob the trailer. Leaving Geraldton the leaning trees of Greenough highlighted what I didn't need to know-'The constant strong southerly burns off growth on the southern side of the tree...' On the way to Perth the road slowly threaded through greener fields with bursts of wildflowers. Unfortunately the roads also grew narrower, busier and more dangerous, making scenery harder to view. At the information centre upon arriving in Perth I once again saw Wendy and Wayne, who have been travelling on a similar schedule since before Coral Bay. In this city with it's 'large town' feel I stayed in the old hospital which had been very well restored into a hostel. After 3 days of running between bike stores, shops and the kitchen it was time again to hit the road. With a 5pm departure leaving Perth and headwinds seeming to push the sun lower faster than kms were expected to pass I met Bill-an accountant riding home from work. With the sun sinking an offer of a spacious backyard was too good to pass up. With he and his wife Dianne unexpectedly sharing their dinner with me it made for an easy departing of the city! With the buildings growing smaller and further apart I headed south along the amazing bike path which leads 70kms out of the city...

Well I have made Adelaide, having survived the Nullarbor so now all that's left is one more 41 degree day and then cool change riding to Melbourne! (then will I worry about Goulburn) I shall update this fully from there but for now it's bedtime with a before light start tomorrow...Mt Barker awaits! Apologies for the lack of updates and thank you to all for their support and good wishes (especially across the Nullarbor). Stories to follow of more headwinds of course, climbing trees, more sickness, stolen goods, heatwaves and scorpions. I shall also post photos if not from melbourne, then definately Goulburn!