The roads were bogged and we were stranded in a ghost house in the middle of the desert, surrounded by weird statues made from rusty machine parts. Inside it felt like a squat – graffiti on the walls, a dusty smell, and ‘Keep Out’ signs on the doors where once someone had dwelled. Still, it was a homely place, and was clearly being taken care of. Everything worked. We slept in, talked, and did our washing with an amazing contraption made from a bike, parts from a car, and a barrel.Thank you carers of Alberrie Creek!
Washing machine at Alberrie Creek
Getting away from our home of two nights was a slow affair. With a melancholy mood, I swung on my bike, and we made our way down the not too muddy road. We passed several cyclists taking part in the Race to the Rock bike race – from Adelaide to Uluru as quickly as possible. These people are doing 300km a day, and are amazingly chirpy and not worried at all. We passed one that is planning on arriving in William Creek at midnight, wants to eat something and then continue. Our bike trip is feeling very normal indeed.
Bikers on the Race to the Rock
We arrived after sunset in Farina – where my great grandmother was born. A look around will have to wait until the morrow.
arctic-cycler.com 