Day 25 - Normanton to Karumba

After a fitfull sleep through a mild night punctuated by the chorus of a hundred dogs, and the occasional strains of party music, the boys saddled up for the last time.

We ambled out of Normanton, pausing for a couple of photos of the team in lycra out the front of the Purple Pub and in/on/beside an enormous crocodile ... okay, a crocodile sculpture.

Spirits were high as we rapidly ate up the first 30 km over smooth bitumen. The troopie caught up with us as we turned west for the last 40 km to Karumba, our destination on the Gulf of Carpentaria. We swapped more grateful thanks for dried fruit and water and saddled up for the real downhill stretch.

We say "downhill", simply because we have this perception, probably mistaken, that the road mirages over the last 20 odd days have been leading us steadily uphill. This perception has been very strong on headwind days. If all this is true, we were expecting a descent of about 3,000 metres back down to sea level!

Well, there was no such descent. Instead the countryside flattened out completely and gradually the trees and shrubs, that have been our roadside companions and harbored all that wonderful birdlife for the past few days, gave way to boggy and swampy fields and our first taste of salt air for 30 days. It dawned on us how tough it must have been for Burke and Wills on their final push towards the Gulf. The land is cleared of the mangroves now, but it would still be a real cross country challenge away from the road.

Our iPods provided the usual variety of soundtracks to this, our last day on the bikes. We rode four abreast into the outskirts of Karumba shortly before 11am with Alan, Julie and the troopie waving to us on the video. With a few sighs, woops, high 5s and congratulations various, we continued on the final 5 km to Karumba Point and our first glimpse of the sea for 29 days.

To think, that four Sunday mornings ago, on 18 April 2011, we had paused with our rear tyres sitting in the Spencer Gulf at Port Augusta ...

What a journey it has been.

A flood of thoughts, memories and emotions flashed through all our minds as we do the best we can to imprint them on this trip of a lifetime.

A few final photo opportunities were gratefully taken, first behind the 'Warning Crocodiles' sign above the beach, and then, a little more boldly, on the beach and with our tyres nudging the waters of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Nerves were taught, and a small splash behind us (probably a tiny fish) caused Dom to yelp, and the rest of to head rapidly back up the beach to the safety of the local pub.

Alan returned with a fine bottle of Aussie sparkling, and while we toasted each other and this fabulous trip, another bottle appeared courtesy of some friendly and chatty grey nomads.

With lunch around the corner and Julie clamouring for the fresh prawns Karumba is famous for, the lads set up our final camp at the Sunset Park, had a swim and cleaned up. With prawns washed down by lemon squash (honestly), the boys cleaned and oiled their bikes for the last time. Pete and Dom set off for further reconnaissance of Karumba Point (ie, they went to the pub). Ric and AP did some reading and emailing before the whole gang met up at the Sunset Tavern for a delightful celebration dinner. With Barramundi, prawns, oysters, steaks, salads and chips washed down by beer, wine and nightcaps of scotch and Drambuie, the night was a fitting culmination to a great trip.

Day 24 - Bang Bang to Normanton

For our last bush camp, the ashes from the previous night's fire were hot enough to rekindle for our breakfast - shame it was muesli again! Nevertheless, another day started at 6:00 am with the sounds of zips on the tents and swags together with the billy being boiled by Alan for the morning coffee.

With a 110km day in front of us, we were prepared for some tough hours of riding into Normanton. The variable wind forecast had us cautious, with the expectation of headwinds for part of the day.

The cyclists have got into the groove of riding for 10km, and then taking a break to stretch the legs, have a drink or snack and generally shoot the breeze. For some parts of the day we ride together, and other parts we spread out over 500 metres or so depending on who is feeling stronger at any one time. When the head winds picked up later in the day we again rode peleton style, so that only one rider takes the brunt of the wind. This makes it easier for the other three, and we then switch over every couple of kms.

The landscape changed again through the day, from flat plains with one metre high grass, to scrubland and delightful rivers with substantial bird life.

We have never seen so many Wedge Tail Eagles - just majestic. And we have also been captivated by the Brolgas. These birds are like over-sized Flamingos with huge wing spans. They seem to travel in pairs or fours, and they really like the long grass near the roads. As we rode past they would take flight.

Julie made some great curried egg sandwiches for lunch that we demolished in Normanton. The caravan park had a great spa which the team relaxed in for 30 minutes, until the discussion of "was this layer of scum on the water here before we were?"

We did a pub crawl starting at the Central Hotel, and then the Albion, finishing at the Purple Pub. Alan had checked them out earlier in the day, and we went from worst to best. The Central Hotel was essentially a large room with a barrier between the punters and the rather tough looking bar staff.

Dinner was good fun at the Purple Pub, with most of the team opting for steak and prawns.

It has been a day of little celebrations, as it was our last "significant" day of riding with only 70 km to ride tomorrow.

We went to bed with expectations of completing our epic sometime before lunch tomorrow.

Day 23 - Burke & Wills Roadhouse to Bang Bang

No need to set alarms on this day. The peaceful sounds of sunrise were shattered at 5am by the symphony of sixteen 600 horsepower Kenworth road trains each starting up and clearing their pipes of dust and diesel sediments. Nonetheless, Ric did his dutiful morning rounds, "AP, 6am rise and shine city boy". Greeting each of the others in a similar fashion, his tone lacked the customary undercurrent of excitement and anticipation around the day ahead.

With the coveted maillot noir et bleu (black & blue jersey), for most stacks, safely in Ric's keeping, and the race for most punctures looking safe with Puncture Pete, the day before the penultimate stage was not expected to be a remarkable one.

As the crew bade farewell to the roadhouse, and rolled out: direction Normanton, 90km up the road at Bang-Bang awaited the last bush camp and camp oven bread, providing much needed incentive to get the weary legs moving.

The highlight of the day was the amazing landscape littered with thousands of ant hills measuring 60cm high. These vast grassy plains, more like one of those microscope images from high school biology, have to be seen to believed.

The peleton cruised into Bang-Bang around 12:30, happy to call it a day. Lunch was taken, then onto the usual camp routine of pitching tents, setting camp kitchen, camp fire, and bush showers.

Less than 200km to go with the epic journey drawing to a close, the camp mood is a little more subdued than normal.

Day 22 - Leichhardt River to the Burke & Wills Roadhouse

Just as Pete was signing off from yesterday's blog and heading off for a swim (Dom lives by the way, no need to call the insurers ... yet), Ric took himself off for his insanely customary 6-8 km run after 100 km in the saddle.

Ric headed down one of the tracks along the river, and managed to cross it in ankle deep water about a kilometer from where we had camped. He continued running along the far bank, saw a small shack, then a sealed track, followed it and (re) discovered the mythical Kajabbi, and the Kalkadoon Hotel. Sadly the pub was shut, and looks like it has been for a while. With a couple of locals cruising by with guns as the sun went down, Ric decided not to explore much more and headed back to the river bank across from the main camp. Hailing the team with the good news (ie, we could cycle 120 km not 140 km tomorrow), Ric paddled and waded back.

After another cool night by this lovely river, we saddled up again to follow the newly discovered route to Kajabbi and beyond. The track across the rock strewn riverbank was tough going - too tough going for Ric - who came off twice left and right in the space of 5 metres!

We toured Kajabbi for 30 seconds, stopped to take a photo at the pub and read about the local warriors who forlornly stood fast against the white settlers in the 1800s. After one false trail heading out of town to the WWII era airstrip, we struck the right route and knuckled down to a 40 odd km stretch on dirt.

The first 10 km rolled past uneventfully, but then the going got tougher as we hit unsealed track torn up by cattle hoofs in the recent wet. Ric managed two more spills in the morning taking his total to 9 stacks for the trip - surely an unassailable lead? With morale flagging on the dirt stretch, we had one more challenge to overcome with the final 7 km into a blustery headwind.

As we hit the highway again, we were pleased to see Julie, Alan and the troopie again. After a quick pitstop of dried fruits and snakes, we turned north again and enjoyed the sealed road and a tailwind.

We had paused by the side of the road on one of our 10 km stretch breaks when Dom inadvertently flagged down two obnoxious tradies. Apart from giving us some "encouragement" they gleefully let us know the troopie had pulled off the road up ahead with some mechanical problem.

We arrived on the scene about 10 minutes later to see that the trailer had thrown it's right wheel. Alan had noticed smoke and the wheel wobbling just before real disaster struck, and pulled to the side of the road just in time. Alan's practical mechanical skills in rebuilding the Model T (and heaps of other things) meant that he had the bearings off in another few minutes. Alan and the troopie then departed back to Cloncurry in search of the critical spares. Julie of the Desert was content to remain behind with the trailer, and 83 crosswords, so the boys cycled on the remaining 50 odd km to the roadhouse.

We arrived just after 3 pm - another long day for us, and treated ourselves to a couple of plates of hot chips and some cold beer. AP recorded a dissenting vote, enjoying a salad roll and a fruit juice after washing the dust away with a single beer.

Alan, Julie and the troopie arrived just on 5pm and the world resumed its normalcy, well, at least for us.

Some of the boys switched tyres back to our road combination, and then enjoyed a typical roadhouse meal - burgers with the lot. And then, once more, it was early to bed.

Day 21 - Cloncurry to the Leichhardt River

What a cold start to the day! All the sleeping bags, jeans and jumpers were in use up until the last moment before the cycling gear was donned. The road trains (53 metres long with 4 full trailers) were still cruising through Cloncurry as we made our way to the local bakery for another one of the best coffees of the trip.

The riders loved the southerly wind that made the first 50km of the morning more like a Sunday ride. The landscape of the Gulf country is flatter than around Mt Isa with small yellow tufts of grass and loads of 1 meter high red ant nests.

We saw three Wedge Tail Eagles up close, and they must have had a wing span of over 2 metres.

40 km into the day we rolled pass Quamby, which was essentially one hotel. We were going to stop there for a break but it did not open until 10am so we continued on. Quamby has a rodeo each year - it seems that each small town aligns themselves with a yearly event. Boulia and the camel races, Birdsville and their races, and other towns with horse dressage or stockman competitions.

With 77 km completed of our 100km day we all thought we were in good shape to be having a beer at the Kajabbi pub by 1:00pm. All we needed was to change our tyres from road back to dirt for the last 26km of the day, when it all went pear-shaped for Pete's front wheel.

2 punctures and three failed tube patches, takes Pete to the leader board for punctures and the recipient of puncture jokes for the next week. This all happened before "Puncture Pete" even got on the bike!

It was relief when we finally got the wheel sorted out and headed off for a relatively tough 24km on dirt which took us to a lovely river called the Leichhardt. We have been unable to find the road across the river as we think that it has been totally washed away. We contemplated swimming across with our bikes, but that leaves significant risk with the cyclists and/or the troopie being stranded.

Today's cycling turned out to be significantly tougher than we first thought, and we stopped at about 3.00 in the afternoon after starting off at 7:15am. There goes our beer at the Kajabbi pub! We were all amazed that there was no information on the road that it was impassable (and looks to have been impassable for quite a long time).

We have now set up camp on the banks of the river, we can see small fish swimming, there are calls to go for a swim (which I will be doing in the next 5 minutes). The river is about 100 metres wide with large river rocks along a river bed that extends another 50 metres from each edge of the river.

There has been discussion of whether there are crocodiles this far south, so we have decided to send Dom in first as the test case. We'll let you know tomorrow how he went.

We are all grateful to be out of the "fly" areas, as we all looked like a bee keepers' convention with fly nets over our heads.

We are in the last week of our adventure now, with only 4 more days of cycling to reach Karumba on the northern coast of Australia.

Tomorrow will now turn into our longest distance riding as we have to back track back to the main road - so the day will be 140 km including 24km of rough dirt track.

The team has loved the kind feedback from people reading the blog, so thank you for taking an interest in our journey.

Day 20 - Mount Isa to Cloncurry

There was a real chill in the air overnight, so the boys were keen to get underway for the 110km planned for the day. The warnings we had been given about traffic, and particularly road trains, proved to be prescient.

Our route basically took us due East, quite a change from our generally northerly heading of the past three weeks. Unfortunately, we spent much of the morning pushing into a pretty steady headwind.

With road trains zooming by us at pretty regular intervals, the cautious approach was for all four of us to get right off the road. This had been relatively easy along the Birdsville Track and other unsealed sections, as these monster rigs were easy to see and hear in the dust storm they created. On the Mt Isa to Cloncurry Highway though, we had plenty of twists and turns to negotiate, and a couple of times the road trains managed to sneak by the eagle eyes of our Tail End Charlie causing some undue excitement for us all.

Unfortunately, the headwinds and traffic on this stretch detracted from some lovely rolling countryside, punctuated with some spectacular rock outcrops, covered with thick scrub, shrubs and plenty of trees.

We rolled into Cloncurry in the early afternoon and headed straight for the bakery on the recommendation of the lass that cut Ric's hair in Mt Isa. We enjoyed the odd sausage roll and sticky bun, and discovered the best coffee we had enjoyed since leaving Sydney. Pete - a notoriously tough coffee connoisseur - awarded the bakery 9 out of 10!

After a quick clean up at the designated campsite, we headed along to the Royal Flying Doctor museum/John Flynn art gallery. The museum does a terrific job in recreating/telling the story of the establishment of the RFDS over the last 100 years. There are models, replicas, plenty of photos and lots of stories about the doctors, nurses and pilots and the people they served. It's well worth a visit and a bargain at $10.00.

Ric took himself off for another run while Pete and Dom checked out the local pubs. We dined on some terrific spaghetti bolognese, and hit the hay nice and early.

Mt Isa - Rest Day

It was a welcome rest day to recharge from the cumulative tiredness after ~ 20 days on the bike.  It was late morning before we were up and ready to mix with the locals from Mt Isa, or do some domestic chores.

After his customary run, Ric was looking a bit shaggy, so found the barber for the military #1 cut. Andrew, Ric and Dom then ventured downtown in search of the ultimate coffee, while Pete - the ever thoughtful son - took Julie Mother's Day shopping.  Pete had success, but coffee rated 6 out of 10.

Dom and Alan ventured off for the afternoon Mt Isa underground mine tour. It was an excellent three hours providing a terrific insight to underground mining. Looking fashionable in our orange overalls, and equipped with head torches we descended down the shaft and travelled by underground rail to explore aspects of underground mining.  We walked around inspecting the drilling, blasting, tunnel securing activities, and talked through the different mining equipment.  The equipment is bullet proof and weighs an absolute tonne...a strong man's job. While modern equipment has made life easier, Alan & Dom are happy to stay with their day jobs.

Late afternoon we were treated to a display of whip cracking.  Andrew had purchased a stockman's whip, and we were universally atrocious at getting it to 'crack'.  Over walks our camping neighbour (on route to his next mustering gig) and treats us to a lesson.  The show included whipping a gum leaf out of Andrew's hand.....made it look too easy.

The rest day may also have gone a little to our heads, so we posed for a very special photo ...

A bed time brew, avoiding talking about the next day's 120km to Cloncurry. A due east ride and praying for a westerly.

Our thanks to Sandra for her contribution to the Inspire charity. Personally, she knew of numerous youth suicides in Mt Isa, which brought to light one of the many challenges in living in these more remote areas of Australia.

Day 20 - Yappo Creek to Mount Isa

With dreams of hamburger with the lot fading in the pre-dawn light, the boys swung out of the Yappo Creek bush camp for the estimated 75 km into Mt Isa. With our Gulf to Gulf cycling jerseys fluttering in the breeze, we gradually built our rhythm over the first 20 km.

A quick refuel on some dried fruit and water from the troopie at the 40 km mark, and on we pushed. Alan had read that Mt Isa is in the Guiness Book of Records as the world's largest city by area, so when we cycled into the city limits with 20 km still to go and were still in the bush, we weren't that surprised.

But a few kms on, we rode over a crest to a completely different landscape. Gone were the shrubs and dense spinifex fed by recent rains and floods, and we were now surrounded by red rocky outcrops, jagged hill lines, and an abundance of eucalypt trees.

We swooshed down our first hills since the Finders Ranges on day 3, and rolled into Mt Isa past a huge power station, and the enormous vents for the mine.

With Harry, Brian and Terry given leave to proceed independently from Bedourie, they had reconoitered a campground some 3 km from the centre of town for us. Perhaps a little too far for cyclists with weary legs, but shady trees and lovely flowing showers helped soothe some of the soreness from our bodies.

We headed out for a Mother's Day lunch with Julie, with Pete and AP even shaving for the occasion! A sumptuous feast of steak, lamb, seafood baskets and barramundi, washed down by the odd XXXX and Julie was appropriately rewarded as our adoptive mum. She's done a fabulous job commanding "Mummyship" during the trip, most often exhorting her boys to "eat it all".

With a lazy afternoon beckoning, the lads wandered further into the town centre with the thought of catching a movie. Pete was keen on a kiddie cartoon, but the gang prevailed on him to see a thriller 'Source Code'. It was a pretty good movie, and a nice way to spend some quality time on padded seats and not bike saddles.

We wandered the few kms back to camp, did some much-needed washing and then returned to the big smoke for a Chinese meal. It wouldn't be a late night, and everyone had turned in by 9.30pm for a long and deserved rest.

Day 19 - Sulieman Creek to Yappo Creek

Dawn greeted us this morning with an extra nip in the air. After 19 days pedalling and a cool start, it took a while for the muscles to warm up. A very chunky road surface also meant the first 20km passed by slowly. However, as the sun started to generate some warmth and our legs steadied into a familiar rhythm, our momentum picked up.

We passed through the little town of Dajarra a little after 9.00am and stopped at the roadhouse for morning tea. After Ric broke the coffee machine, the rest of us were left with pretty average instant brew. Ric enjoyed his coffee immensely and made sure to let the rest of the crew know how good it was.

Every shop or pub in each of these tiny towns seems to be staffed by a foreign back-packer. All of them are looking for three month employment to extend their visas here in Australia. Each of them has an amusing story about the moment they worked out just where the particular town is located where they've accepted a three month posting. One Scottish girl is now chief cook on a cattle station that is almost the same size as the whole of Scotland!

Good camp sites were few and far between us on this stretch. We don't know how they do it, but Alan and Julie again secured a great location for us to rest our heads, but it did require stretching the day out to 125km. The upside is that it has shortened our stretch into Mt Isa tomorrow. The food cravings are reaching a heightened state of anticipation. Hamburger with the lot seems to be rating high on the wish list with most of the team.

Day 18 - Boulia to Sulieman Creek

Well rested from our stay at Boulia (top marks to a town that has made a real effort on their little village) the team set out for another 110km day at the office. The change to road tyres felt good with less resistance against the tar, and we made good time in the stillness and cool air of dawn. We've all grown to love this time of the day, and spirits are always high as we roll out of towns before they awaken.

Despite the sealed surface, the road is effectively single lane and the dreaded road trains (3 semi-trailers all linked and 50 meters long!) are becoming more prevalent. There's no room for cyclists when these beasts are moving through at 100km/hr. As a result we're more vigilant and no more cruising on deserted roads with i-pods tucked in our ears!

It was also a delight to see the countryside coming back to life. The vast, flat and desolate expanse we've been traveling through is now gradually giving way to some shrubs and trees. The horizon is also starting to be dotted with small hills which we haven't seen since we left the Flinders Ranges some 15 days ago.

Reasonably uneventful riding, but we did pass by an enormous wedge tail eagle that had been hit by a truck. Very sad to see such a magnificent bird killed, but it was an opportunity for all of us to see the scale of these animals up close. The wingspan was about 2.0m across and talons that would certainly look terrifying if you were a small marsupial glancing skyward for the last time ...

A solid 110km day knocked over by about 2.00pm. Alan and Julie found a great campsite beside Sulieman Creek with a billabong that provided a well-earned swim for everyone at the end of the day. The evening was topped off with another delicious meal accompanied by fresh bread cooked in the camp oven over an open fire.

Day 17 - Hilary Creek to Boulia

All good thing must come to an end, and so it was after another wonderful night under the stars, Ric's watch alarm roused the boys at 5.45 for another day in the saddle.

The ride was scheduled to be a shorter one of just over 80 km into the small town of Boulia. We covered the pretty flat countryside quite quickly, and even ate up the 20 km or so of unsealed road at around a 25km/h average speed. The pitted, rutted and really stony surfaces of the Birdsville Track, where we struggled to make 15 km/h, seem a long way behind us now.

We had to push a little harder on the pedals over the closing 20 kms as our lovingly praised tailwind of the past few days deserted us, and we were back to peleton formation with each of us sharing the load at the front.

We arrived in Boulia, a pretty and neat town by the banks of the Burke River, just after 11 am. We were disappointed to hear that the Min Min cafe was currently closed, so our plan of sitting around in our lycra and sipping lattes would have to be deferred. Instead we pitched our tents and swags at the local campground on a novelty item - green grass. After a quick sandwich lunch we set about changing the tyres over from the knobby all terrain treads we have been running since day 3 to our hybrid and slick tyres. We're expecting sealed roads all the way through now.

We strolled back into town around 3 pm to check out the local grocery store - the largest one we have seen since Port Augusta, to post a couple of parcels, letters & cards, and to check out the local pub. Dom & Ric left Pete and Andrew at the pub - working on local and international relations - and headed off to the "Min Min experience" at the tourist centre. We were treated to a cleverly assembled entertainment of lights, stage sets, talking mannequins and stories about the mysterious Min Min lights. Ric and Alan are converts, claiming to have seen them over the past day or in our bush camps - it's either that or the red wine and isolation is getting to them!

Back to camp for a wonderful dinner of curried vegetables, and then it was a few phone calls home and another early night.

Day 16 - Bedourie to Hilary Creek

We weren't too sad to see the back of Bedourie, and particularly the dingy pub, so the cyclists did a predawn start - as we had a 110 km to cover during the day. We had half dirt and half bitumen for the day. The tail wind made the riding good fun and not too tough with one of our longer distance days. We seemed to comfortably eat up the distance, chatting away and stopping to relieve the odd niggle and saddle sore every 10 km.

About 45 km out of Bedourie we stopped for another visit by the Puncture Monster for Pete, also discovering that Pete's rear tyre explosion way back as we left Birdsville had also busted one of his spokes. We rechecked the other bikes for damage and found a front spoke broken on Dom's mighty mount as well. Dom's previous theory that flats and breakages are due to rider error is looking a little shaky now!

While we were stopped, three 4wds from the Ballina 4WD club stopped to make a donation to us for the Inspire Foundation. Many thanks to Graeme, Yvonne, Col, Lyn and Jan.

The camp site at Hilary Creek was a great bush camp for the team, Alan and Julie found a superb spot under some trees, and we saw one of the more spectacular sunsets of the trip. Andrew and Julie went off for a walk along the river in the afternoon for some bird watching, while Alan, Pete and Dom read some books. Ric went for a run in the afternoon sun.

Julie cooked up a storm with some laksa that was demolished in short order by the team.

We found enough fire wood (harder in the desert as there are very few trees) and had a camp fire under the stars. Andrew and Peter competed for the biggest pyromaniac award - probably a draw at the end.

Day 15 - Cuttaburra Crossing to Bedourie

Today was the first real decision we've had to make on our route. The direct road to Bedourie was closed due to water. The detour route added an additional 55km and would have made for a 130km day on dirt - not an attractive prospect. Having sought the advice of locals in Birdsville, we were assured the water was only knee deep and ran for maybe 1km. We decided the cyclists could manage "a little water" and set off on the direct route while leaving the vehicle support to take the long way around.

Excitement was high amongst the team as the road petered out and a lake of water spread out in front of us. The only indication that there was a road in front of us was provided by the tips of white road markers poking above the surface and disappearing into the distance.

All was well initially, with water lapping at the base of our pedals and an element of competitiveness in anticipation of the first one to come a cropper. But as the water got deeper we all had to work much harder to keep the legs pedalling and to stay vertical.

Suffice to say we all took a swim. There was plenty of opportunity as the supposed 1km of water turned out to be in excess of 7km long!! And the water level for a good part of that journey was nearly a meter deep. We all had a good shot at riding as much as possible, but with water fully obscuring the wheels and shocks we made a strange site with four guys steering a set of handle bars along the surface of a lake! AP took the honours staying upright for the longest on this leg and earned the new title of "water rat".

Both Pete and Andrew ignored the road markers at their peril. Off the edge of separate causeways, each of them found bottomless holes and disappeared over their heads in mid conversation - much to the amusement of the others.

Whilst we may not have elected to take this route if we'd known the extent of the water, we were treated to a rare view of wetland wildlife. Here on the edge of the desert and start of the Channel Country, we saw swans, egrets, cranes, pelicans and several families of wild pigs camped in the swampy corners.

Most of us agreed this adventure was one of the highlights of our trip so far. A great adventure and a bunch of laughs along the way - although Pete may have lost his sense of humour temporarily after having to leave his bike and swim after the walkie talkie as it floated away after yet another dunking.

Alan and Julie were greatly relieved to see us emerge on the other side. What we thought would be a 30 minute paddle turned out to take two and a half hours! Despite being tired we mounted the trusty steeds and completed another 70km ride into Bedourie to finish the day at around 3.00pm. The water must have tampered with Pete's tyres with the Flat Monster visiting again.

Rest Day - Birdsville

The boys enjoyed their sleep in on Sunday morning, content in the knowledge that they had the whole day off in Birdsville. Pete, Dom & Andrew headed off to the pub for breakfast where they affixed themselves to the dining room, and Pete impressed the country bar staff by ordering two skim lattes. Pete reported that he received a "look" reserved only for ripoff merchants, parking inspectors and yuppies.

Meanwhile Ric had headed off for another run and bacon & eggs with Dusty at the bakery. With the lads whiling away the morning sipping yuppie coffees in the pub, Ric headed off to the tourist information centre to skype his gals, and then back to camp for a spot of reading.

The boys rendezvoused again at the information centre and mapped out the next few days. A key decision was made to not ride the current bypass road, and instead to make an attempt at riding through Cuttaburra Crossing that has been closed due to flooding for months. We'll save about 80 km if we stick to the crossing rather than taking the detour.

Lunch with Dusty, and then the lads headed around to the Blue Poles gallery where we met ex-pat German, now local artist Wolfgang John. He had some excellent paintings and prints on display, and was kind enough to chat with us for half an hour and explain his current work, the local area and even our upcoming road conditions.

Andrew and Pete then returned to the pub for some more relaxing, reading and work. Dom and Ric headed back to the Internet facilities at the campground to load up the photos for the blog. The boys then reconvened to wash some pretty dusty bikes, and conduct some minor maintenance.

As the sun began setting, drinks were called and we headed off to the Birdsville pub for one last (okay, a few last) beers before our next stretch.

A final feed of sausage sandwiches, and a cup of tea before we retired earlyish, now well-rested after an excellent and enjoyable break in Birdsville.

Day 14 - Birdsville to Cuttaburra Crossing

It was planned as another dawn departure but fate had a few cards to play ...

Well-rested and with spirits high after a terrific weekend in Birdsville, the lads were keen to get rolling again. After our now standard breakfast of a big bowl of muesli and a cuppa in the pre-dawn light, the boys grabbed their two-wheeled steeds and headed out of the campground.

At this point we discovered both Pete and Andrew had flat tyres. No problem, just a minor delay we thought. Ric decided to add some air to his back wheel at the same time and succeeded only in snapping off the top of his Schraeder valve. We now had a third wheel to change. Alan and Harry didn't have much to film in terms of a departure scene, but they did get to see three bikes upended, tubes awry and lots of mad pumping.

Finally, we were ready to leave again. And then - one almighty bang from Pete's rear tyre. The explosion left Pete's rear end smoking, woke Julie up, and apparently is still causing dinner table conversation in Birdsville. It had the power to completely split the inner tube on Pete's rear wheel, blow the reflector off and, as we would discover later that day, buckle the wheel.

So we now had a fourth wheel to change, and we hadn't cycled a centimeter. It's fair to say that Pete got lots of good-natured advice, like: eat less pies, put less pressure in the tyres, etc.

We finally rode out of Birdsville well past dawn, but in time to see our new mate Wolfy walking back into town with his dog.

We rolled north under a cloudy sky and soon encountered our first rain for the trip. It was only a light shower, and with a gentle tailwind (woohoo) pushing us along we covered the ground more quickly than we had for a week or so. The rain gummed up the unsealed parts of the track a little, and that, coupled with some of the damage left by previous floods, left some areas of the track pretty muddy and rutted. AP discovered one such stretch was a little unforgiving as he dove off to the right. After some cursing of the mud he had covered himself in, it was back to business.

Stopping each 10kms for a quick stretch, drink and comfort stop has been working well for us, and it wasn't long before we saw more emus and some wild horses. In no time we were at our designated 80km lunch rendezvous with the troopie. We enjoyed a couple of delicious ham and salad sandwiches before pushing on for the final 30 km of the day.

As we rolled into another fine bush camp that Alan and Julie had located, the rain really began to hammer down. While Pete enjoyed a hot tub of water prepared lovingly by his Mum, the rest of us quickly set up camp and then dived into the main tent for a coffee, some cards and a nip of fine malt whiskey - it really is unseasonably cold. Some earlier giggling from the tent turned out to be AP and the whiskey bottle, prior to the arrival of glasses/cups.

Alan's prediction of 30 minutes only of rain proved to be just about spot on, so we soon reemerged, Dom to assist Pete in straightening the damaged wheel, Ric for another run, and Julie to knock together another delicious dinner of Hungarian Ghoulash. With a beaut day of cooler weather, much improved track conditions and a tailwind, the boys retired around 9.30 ready for their assault on the river crossing first thing tomorrow.