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in Mount Ive became our only option .
The dirt road got trickier , now weaving over little hills as well as sprouting big sharp rocks among the lime-white corrugations . By now I was getting used to it , and the focus on finding the promised salt lake spurred me on . Our simple offline navigation app did not show the small dirt roads of the desert . We had a black dot marked to show where the access to the salt lakes was supposed to be and a moving blue dot showed our position , leaving us to guess which way would make the two dots meet .
Already the shadows were getting longer , and we ’ d been warned over and over to avoid riding at dusk when wildlife tends to suddenly cross the road . An emu had already wandered by , and we had no idea if there were wombats or kangaroos here , but we didn ’ t want to find out the hard way . We had been following the only road for miles , but our blue dot seemed to be passing the black dot , rather than approaching it .
Eventually the sun sank below the horizon , and we had to decide whether to camp here , or to risk riding in the dark and try to find a way to the salt lake access . Still chasing the dream , we turned back , carefully scanning the roadside brush for movement , riding as fast as we dared in a race against darkness . Luckily , we soon spotted the hidden dirt track leading off towards our point on the map . Darkness closed in as we reached the lakeside , and we pitched the tent by moonlight .
Our alarm went off early and we rose full of anticipation . Opening the tent ’ s zipper , we were greeted by grey , low-hanging clouds . They would not reveal the sunrise today . Somehow it had never crossed our mind that this could happen . We sipped our coffee feeling deflated . Riding on salt flats and taking some beautiful sunrise pictures of it all was the dream of a lifetime and we didn ’ t want to give up .
What if we stayed another night and tried again tomorrow ? If we didn ’ t wash our hands , or the dishes , used the water from boiling our rice to brew coffee and drank only the bare minimum , our water might just be enough . After all , we were unlikely to ever come back here . It was worth a try .
We spent the day enjoying the beautiful lakeside and checking the bikes over for loose bolts and replacing the missing ones from a small tin of spares I carried . The zip ties strapped to our front forks also came in handy . In the evening we cooked our last can of food for dinner . After this we only had rice and soy sauce left , but no water to boil it with . No matter , we would just have a late breakfast tomorrow when we got back to civilisation .
The next morning our luck was in . The sky began turning a beautiful pastel rainbow and we grabbed our cameras and rode our bikes onto the lake . Well , I did . Aidan ’ s heavier GS sank in , standing up by itself without the side stand . Knowing we would only have a few short minutes of magic morning light Aidan left his bike where it was and started taking photos while I rode towards the rising sun .
Only the braaping moto and the quiet clicking of the Nikon interrupted the desert silence . The salt glistened like virgin snow while the sky changed from purple and pink to turquoise and blue . A yellow ball of fire slowly climbed over the horizon , painting the salt golden for just a few moments . This fascinating play of colours was everything of which we had dreamed .
When the sun gathered strength returning the salt to its usual pinkish white , and the sky became the bright blue it would be all day , we took the panniers off to heave the BMW out of its rut . The mud made a horrific mess of the pristine salt crust .
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