Day 1: Sydney to Broken Hill

I start early – wake up at four, brush teeth, shave, coffee in the flask, ice in the ice box with all the frozen meets and cold drinks and away I go. Somehow I trust Garmin (and the new Topo Australia and New Zealand maps I installed) and follow its instructions. It gives me quicker way to get out of Sydney and I progress well with breakfast at Bathurst’s McDonalds and pleasant drive to Wellington (in NSW), but then something happens and Garmin tells me to drive South/West and I follow without thinking. I hope it will be the quickest way. The distance of 1400km to Broken Hill seems longer than what I expect, but this morning I feel adventurous and don’t mind driving a little longer. Just give me the open road. Yes, I get the open road – I drive through Parkes, Forbes, West Wyalong, Hay and Balranald.

I’ve crossed the Blue Mountains, but it is still dark.
Driving through some morning fog.

Soon I fall in one of these conditions, which allows me to drive to the end of the world, without thinking, and without fatigue, like a zombie. I am simply focused on the road. I stop only for diesel and a few quick toilet breaks, forgetting about lunch. Soon I feel my head starting to hurt. Perhaps the lack of food. The next stop for fuel I buy some chocolate bars and a packet of salty chips. With 2 cans of coke the headache goes away (for now).

This morning I started without a plan, thinking to stop for the night wherever I get, but just after Mildura and Wentworth, I realise that on this last stretch of 260 km there is nothing. Now I must get to Broken Hill. It’s a beautiful sunset, mind you – I stop for a photo and the night comes. It’s only 6pm, but the darkness makes me anxious. I panic a little and start to drive quicker. Up to 130k/h and like in a dream, I see a large heavy kangaroo getting up on the left and slowly starting it’s gracious jumps across the road. It’s too late, I can’t stop – I can only swerve to the left, brushing the kangaroo’s tail. The Landie behaves admirably, staying on the road and stabilizing like there was no danger. I cannot say the same for myself. I am shaking, hands sweating, hearth pumping and with a new pain behind my eyes. After 1200km I can understand the truckies, how hard their job must be, and now I have a new respect for them. But still there are 200km to go and I have to slow down, driving in the middle of the road, peeling my eyes for the brown/grey shapes of dreaming kangaroos that might decide to jump in front of me. I see a few clever foxes, just looking at me when I pass, but no more kangaroos. There is also a massive bloody moon, which follows me on the right.

A whole day has gone, the night is falling again, but I am still driving…
I stop to see this strange light.
I make a few happy snaps, unaware of the kangaroo danger I’ll encounter a little later.
The strange light closer.
The ugly motel I enter for tonight is full of outback capable vehicles.

Can’t believe I am finally at Broken Hill after 16 hours of continuous driving. But there is no celebration, even though I feel enormously relieved – Broken Hill is deserted. I drive around and get in the first motel to ask for a room. Single for $115, the receptionist says. It seems expensive for this type of motel, but I don’t argue, warm bed and warm shower is what I need. I get the key for room 14 and drive around to find a petrol station to top up the tank for early start tomorrow.

At the petrol station there is another car with three aboriginal youths sitting stiff, while the fourth is filling a 20l can. They are all hooded, dark and look dangerous. I stop in front of the diesel pump feeling very unsecure. I don’t want them to smell my fear – before getting out, I put my jacket with the hood on and try to look tough. The youths probably don’t see me and soon are gone, but the station’s attendant is very suspicious even though I pay cash. He follows me out, to make sure I get only one small bag of ice from the fridge (what I paid for) and keeps looking at me unsmiling, while I crash the ice in the box and then drive away.

Maybe I look strange (after driving 1400 km), because the bartender at a pub I enter to buy couple of beers also looks at me with suspicion. Two small beers for $12 are expensive, but again I don’t argue. On the way back to the motel I find a Japanese restaurant and buy some miso soup and beef teppanyaki. A full meal with steamed rice is only $12. And delicious…

My body falls asleep like a plank, but my mind continues to speed 130 km/h into the space.

Tomorrow I will drive to Rawnsley Park Station

Този пост е достъпно само на Английски (Сащ).

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