battle more than anything to get that
far, and yet it had been everything I
had hoped it would be.
The next day was taken off, a rest
day. I went out with the station hands
to muster cattle for the day. A great
experience that paid for my meals
and lodging for another night before
taking on the final leg.
I spent a day in Wiluna resting and
servicing the bike. With a dozen or
so travellers who had just finished
the Canning Stock Route sat with me
around a campfire. I interrogated
them for information about the track
and what I could expect.
“The track is in its worst condition
ever,” was one reply.
“A single motorbike just won’t get
through,” came another. “It’s bloody
hard work even in the fourbys. The
dunes are massive!”
I could hear the uncertainty in
their voices, even picking up on
someone scoffing me. I let them have
their say, taking it onboard while
thanking them. I’d heard it all before,
now there was something differ-
ent. The fear coiling around in my
stomach was no longer there. I had
beaten my monster. I was learning a
lot of myself.
It was now only 2,000 kilometres of
the most remote desert track in the
TRAVERSE 95
country. It didn’t scare me at all.
Starting the Canning Stock Route
brought excitement and an open
mindedness. With this came the in-
credible nature of other people, it was
shining through and I was noticing it.
Amazingly, misfortune saved my
sight that first morning on the CSR.
I’d lost my sunglasses which, I prefer
to ride in, so was forced to wear the
goggles. A few kilometres down the
track a branch speared into one of
the lenses, pulling my face back and
dragging the bike into the bush. I was
alright however; had I been wearing
the sunglasses I would’ve lost an eye
for sure.