Onwards to Bodallin

“Bodallin,” pondered Marie in the Merredin Internet Café, “it must be about 70km away”.

Threw me, that did. I’d planned on Bodallin being our next stop after Merredin but even with that ever-elusive tailwind finally joining my rear end 70km in a day might be asking just a bit much. Ah well, we’ll have to make do with camping just off the road tonight.

And that was how the plan for the day went. Up early and on the road before 8am (even with a 5:45 alarm it’s amazing how long it takes to get ready) we’d gone 25km before the other vans caught up. The road drove on through WA, past the site of the commencement of the famous Rabbit Proof Fence and then into a channel bordered by ten foot high bush. For 10km this channel undulated, the roads smooth and the wind finally edging behind me, I coasted along with barely a push. Heaven! At one point a basking lizard stood in the middle of the road, almost a foot long. I bent down as I rolled by, barely a metre from the little dinosaur and then, thinking the episode was over, the critter started running and collided with my back wheel. My heart stopped, a cart wheeling gecko spun off towards the sideline and to my relief he landed on his feet and just stared at me nonchalantly. Simon, riding the bike just behind, swerved a little to avoid a bad ending, and we continued on our way.

At Coballin Road House two large skinks hovered around the toilet block. Over a foot long and very plump, one of them guarded the Ladies entrance. A little local girl ran over and answered Bev’s questions.
“Does it bite?”
“No.”
“Is it a bluetail?”
“I don’t know, I’m only five years old.”

At about 1pm I rolled over the 50k mark for the day. Pulled the vans over. “Guys, let’s start looking about for a place to camp, the next Road House is about 20k away so it looks like we’re stuck by the roadside tonight.”

Down the road a km or so there was a wide lay-by peppered with bushes. I looked around, Dim was filming some horses in a nearby field but the place didn’t feel right. “No shelter here, let’s move on a bit.”

And just around the corner, much to my surprise, was a sign saying Bodallin, 2km! We rolled into the station right on the 59km mark and were dismayed to find ‘No Overnight Camping’ signs everywhere. Bugger! Always a group to try it on, though, we approached the lady who worked at the station and she said it might be ok to stay, although it was really up to the council. Twenty minutes later a white car drove up, two women and a man got out, handed us $25 in donations between them and then the chap asked me, “Would you like to stay here tonight?”
“Mate, I’d love to,” I replied, not knowing who the hell he was.
“Good, it’ll be ok then, I’ll let you,” he said, tapping my shoulder.
“Are you from the council then?” I asked. He nodded,
“I have a meeting tonight, I’ll let the rest know.”

And that was that. Off he drove and left us to it. The wall alongside the station was ridden with spiders. Some of the team watched in fascination as a pair of redbacks took down an earwig. Safe to say that although were all in bed by eight a few of us had sleepless nights.