through the gears, over the dunes
like it was riding for its life.
I pulled into the Ilkurlka road-
house as the last light was leaving
the sky. The resident caretaker, Rob
came out and took one look at me
and offered me the spare bed in the
caretaker’s cabin. I was so grateful.
The thought of setting up my camp
was enough to make me want to cry.
The following two days were spent
riding some of the most corrugated
tracks of the entire adventure.
I questioned why I was doing
this. Yet couldn’t help thinking that
I chose this life. I wanted this life.
This challenge. Again, I told myself
TRAVERSE 94
to get up and own it.
That morning presented a real
moment. Just about to pull into
Warburton roadhouse, the halfway
point of almost 8,000 kilometres, I
was spent. My body was broken.
I just wanted to go home. Every
kilometre west was just another tor-
turous kilometre away from Victoria.
Away from home. I found myself at a
mental fork in the road.
It took another two full days to
reach Carnegie Station. The previous
seven days had seen only five vehi-
cles, all headed east. I was grateful
for a real shower, a hot meal and
human contact. It had been a mental