concerns too .
About halfway between Alice Springs and Tennant Creek lay Barrow Creek , a dusty little place with a rough little garage offering surprisingly excellent meals . The owner was a genial and friendly chap in his forties , with cool tattoos and trimmed beard . All of us felt a little uneasy though : this was the town where poor Peter Falconio disappeared .
Driving around Australia with his girlfriend , Joanne Lees , a ute reportedly pulled their campervan over , the driver allegedly killed Peter , and tried to abduct Joanne who managed to escape , but media speculation accreted concerning the sole survivors ’ story , with indigenous trackers never finding any trace of her running and hiding in the outback to escape her attacker . Either way , it ’ s a bloody grizzly affair and we were glad to move on .
We spent some time at the alien memorabilia at Wycliffe Well and the Devils Marbles , before cantering up to Daly Waters . With Richie ’ s colitis getting worse , he needed more and more time in the morning , which meant the day was ferocious by the time we got around to actually moving . Without speed limits in the Northern Territory though , we could make some huge ground , so I decided to head out early one morning and meet the guys later . Once I got going though , I didn ’ t want to stop : with barely any traffic , I was hauling ass at 160kph , coasting around each bend , feeling like I had sixth sense racing through corners . It was nice to regain a bit of confidence . By the time I reached the Daly Waters Pub with its cool shade supplied by the brilliant purple Jacaranda Tree , I ’ d racked up four hundred kilometres and it was only just gone midday . I ’ d enjoyed the peace and quiet though , and loved relaxing in the legendary pub , it ’ s walls festooned with bras , stickers , t-shirts , business cards , trinkets , flags , and paper-money from around the world .
Almost two hours after my arrival , with several refreshing drinks and a good feed consumed , my friends rocked-up . It must have been about 45 degrees Celsius . I left the shade to greet them but didn ’ t get very far : every step was like walking into a furnace .
The landscape up here seemed devoid of any kind of wetness , crumbling with ease under pressure , and yet greenery fluttered here and there , the plants grasping every ounce of moisture possible . The sides of the road were a rich dark red from the copious iron in the soil , with bush and scrubland as far as the eye could hold its gaze . Completely unexpectedly , we found a small lagoon , a picturesque spot that made you want to just walk right in fully clothed . Or rather
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