Days 7 (continued) & 8

Day 7. Continued.

Having settled in, got ourselves up to date with admin and posted to the blog, we ventured out to Perry Sandhills. They were formed similarly to the lunettes at Mungo, and are a brilliant red due to the oxidation of the sand crystals: the deeper the red, the older the sand.

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We came across the God Tree – a eucalypt whose trunk is buried in the sand dune – estimated to be 4-5 metres deep – so that you can stand in its canopy at ground level.

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Also visited the junction of the Darling and the Murray – a huge, tranquil body of water, with the 2 rivers meeting in a V formation.

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Tranquil does not describe the evening! D started to cook dinner outside and a gale blew in, so that he needed three hands to hold down the umbrella, stop utensils from blowing off the bench, and turn the steaks. He’s a dexterous kind of guy. The meal was worth it.

Day 8. Saturday 5 Aug.

The weather continued to disturb overnight, as did the party-goers who arrived very late, but presumably the conditions helped to keep their visit short but noisy.

Breakfast at a café next to the caravan park called Artback. Great food, but no smashed avo (and the servings were enormous) so civilization hasn’t spread this far yet: the outback is still unspoiled.

On the road to Broken Hill, just long kilometres of low saltbush and occasional bushes and feral goats. Stopped in BH for T to get that wool needle and there we caught sight of our next rig – just right to get anyone out of trouble!

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BH was as we remembered, but we passed through, wanting to get a bit further down the road.

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Pulled over about 65kms into SA, beside the railway line and outside a pub called the Olary. We’ll spend the night (T reminds us that the rest stops along the Stuart Hwy would never be repeated…and here we are!!!!!!) D had a beer at the pub – a can of West End. The publican advised that there would be no meals offered tonight because he’d spent all day collecting wood for the fire and hadn’t prepared anything.

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T is not going to offer him a serving of our chorizo/coriander stew. It’s now 1930 and we’ve lost count of the number of passing trucks, but there have been 3 trains. Both these big rigs remind us of the importance of the freight industry in a vast continent.

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