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water . The tap at the last petrol station before the turn-off had been dry , so we ’ d just filled tanks and spare cans with fuel and left the water for the upcoming roadhouse .
The road was a deep terracotta red , sandy enough to be a fun challenge , and the corrugations weren ’ t bad enough to be annoying . This year ' s unusual rains had left a few puddles , but nothing that we couldn ’ t manage . We revelled in being off the boring asphalt and it didn ’ t seem long before we reached Kingoonya .
Being named on the map , we expected a small village . To our great surprise we only found a lonely roadhouse so remote everything was repurposed , as carting in materials was too expensive . A few travellers who had come the other way with their camper van sat around upturned cable reels that served as tables , sipping beers . The empty cans were collected in bins made from chicken wire .
We joined them for a catch-up and the roadhouse owner was more than happy to sell us cold drinks . But when I asked if we could fill up our water canister , he became reluctant . The dry tap earlier should have been a hint , but it only dawned on us now how scarce drinking water is out here . He finally took pity on our naivete and filled us up at the kitchen tap .
The travellers told us of a spot further south where you can access the salt lake . This was unexpected good news ! Dreams of an Australian version of the Bonneville Salt flats were born . We wouldn ’ t have enough petrol to ride back the way we came , but the others were sure they had seen a petrol station in Mount Ive , which we might just be able to reach . The temptation of sun rise photos riding across the salt flats was too tempting . If we were frugal , we could stretch our food supplies , and I bravely declared I would be willing to walk a bit to fetch fuel with our
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