With the possibility of stunning images of the cliffs to be had in early morning light, Peter crawled out of bed to learn a new level of cold. No wind was needed for effect. This was just pure cold. The stuff that’s gets in your toes, travels up your legs and infests every part of your body in less than five minutes. From then on its just miserable suffering.
As the sun tire to wake up so did the world in front of the lens. The cliffs set the backdrop but were by no means the stars they were anticipated to be. Instead the small green bushes clinging to a meagre existence on the ragged cliffs’ edge became the focus point. 50 minutes later Peter could no longer push the shutter. His hands were incredibly painful, and his photographic spirit beaten down by the elements.
The remainder of the troop poked their heads out much later to confirm what a beautiful day it was bathed in sunshine! Soon we were pointed west yet again on the Eyre Highway towards Border Village. Nothing much changed as it came to scenery. We dropped in on a few more cliffs, said our ooohs and aaahs and continued on. We noted a group of about ten vans clambered together atop a cliff at one point. We agreed it would have been a good camp spot, be reckoned ours the previous night made it look decidedly lame.
At border village we stopped at the Shell service station for a very good coffee, excellent raison toast and a yarn to the staff. It turns out the 30 something lady behind the counter was from Victoria (we prayed for her). She was travelling to WA with her mining partner but had to quarantine before she jumped the border. With not much to do in Border Village she took a job at the servo and intends to stay there. Similarly the managers are a young couple from Newcastle who took a year contract. They love it. In their words, we are making so much money it’s ridiculous!
Before moving the 50 m to the border we rid ourselves of honey, vegetables and most other things we humans eat. The crossing was seamless, if not thorough. We were COVID checked, fruit and veg checked, licensed checked. All of the checking staff were fantastic people wanting to have a yarn, to as they called it, decent people. We laughed that we had gotten into and out of entire countries with less formality.
We arrived in Eucla not long afterward. We fuelled up at 18 cents per litre cheaper than the border servo, before driving and walking to the old Telegraph Station and jetty. We may have done a few more steps then necessary on the way back as the track was not at all easy to find.
Onwards we marched. The road now turned away from the coast. Actually the road was straight. It was the coastline that turned south making us appear to be further inland. Consequently, we had nothing to look at other than small stumpy trees and bushes. Occasionally, the advisory signs depicting the feral animals you will most likely hit on your journey appeared. The animals depicted changed with the environment. At some points we had camels, roos and emus. At others, roos, wombats, emus. And at one, roos, emus and the NSW origin team.
By later afternoon we had not made our intended destination of 47 km west of Madura. The going had been slow with a bit of a head wind and dwindling motivation. Just on dusk we swung into camp 24 just of the highway, made a fantastic fire, talked for hours and hit the hay.
