Day 408 | along the winding road to Hopetoun: yes, a real shop and a public power outlet

47 km | Heading west total: 14,556 km

Not much to report. A wet day.

I sat in the (almost) waterproof melalucas munching my brekkie, watching it come down, not big drops but thick enough to soak you if you cared to stand out in it. The tent was rolled up wet for almost the first time on my travels and the sun never really came out all day.

But the mizzle had ceased by the time I was ready to depart and I hightailed it, wind at my back, towards the bright lights of Hopetoun in the gloom.

The road undulated alongside the coast, often a few kilometres inland, but occasionally close enough to walk to the top of the dunes for a view of the Southern Ocean crashing in, while being sandblasted by the gale force wind.

The road was great riding but eventually the rain came down again and I cringed under some vegetation while trying to avoid the rain crazed ants at my feet.

A 4WD of locals stopped and I got in the usual conversation starter: if you’re lost, I’m not sure if I can help. The boys were shaking their heads in the misted up cab and I for once had an inkling of their collective thought patterns.

What on earth does this guy think he’s doing, sitting drenched under a shrub as the rain came down on some deserted limestone and sand road a long way from not much?

I was wondering the same thing myself.