TRAVEL FEATURE - AUSTRALIA MEGAN GOVERNI
SHOPPING FOR NEW KNICKERS
We all stood looking at what was blocking our path , a gate , closed and covered with all sorts of clothing . It was an odd sight , and we were no longer sure if we should be riding down this path , after all Google Maps would not plot along this road .
Seeking some form of reassurance , I nervously looked at the boys . None was offered , they seemed more afraid than me . They ’ d sent me down this road , a novice to riding dirt , at the head of the pack , they ’ d said it was so they could keep an eye on me . Nice of them .
“ The bastards ,” I ’ d thought . They hadn ’ t been doing it for my benefit , they ’ d been terrified themselves . This road was certainly the roughest I ’ d been on . Thick bulldust patches , wash away ’ s , and deep mudholes , all hiding rocks ranging in size from footballs to small cars . We ’ d only ridden about 20 kilometres and we were all knackered , perhaps too many beers at the Balladonia Roadhouse the night before didn ’ t help .
The four of us were browsing through the shirts , shoes and underwear all hung on the gate as a four-wheel drive approached from the direction we ’ d just ridden . This machine was certainly capable of making such a drive , it seemed the guy at the controls wasn ’ t .
A young fellow wound down the window , a look of horror on his face . He ’ d asked if the road ahead was as bad . We riders all shrugged and said we ’ d come down the same way he and his travelling partners had . He asked again , as if not hearing what we ’ d said . It was a strange conversation , perhaps English wasn ’ t the first language of Western Australians .
We all laughed as the large vehicle bounced its way down the track and I continued to look over the gate to see what was available . Nothing here ,
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