Blinman - 0km

What an anticlimax! I was expecting to arrive in Blinman and peddle off into the heat and dust. Instead I watched Mike's tail lights disappear down the road as I prepared to wait for the torrential rain to clear. I booked into the Blinman pub for the night, not wanting to spend my first day on the trail head-down battling through the rain and mud, missing the opportunity to enjoy what would probably be a highlight of the trip in terms of scenery. It would be a shame to miss it because of the rain, just wanting to get the section of trail "done".

Had mixed feelings as Mike headed off. Part excitement for having got here and for what I was about to do...part loneliness with two weeks of solo travel ahead. The isolation was magnified as I sat here to wait it out, being so used to picking up the mobile and ringing Lucy for a chat, phone coverage is nil. Was tricky even getting a weather forecast. Just as tonight's TV news was on in the front bar of the pub, a thunderstorm passed overhead killing the signal from the satellite. I suppose it was nature's way of saying, you don't need a forecast, just look out the window...here I am.

But I had to be patient, stifling the frustration of seeing and hearing every renewed burst of rain. I wanted to really experience this country...well this was it, warts and all.

In breaks in the rain I went for a few walks around the town and up the hill overlooking the township, and had a good lunch at the Gallery/Cafe. On top of the hill was a soldiers memorial. It seems like every town was affected by the "great" war, no matter how small and remote.

Spent the evening with some locals sitting on the veranda of the pub watching the creek rise, with logs and a dead roo floating downstream, lightning in the distance, thunder rumbling, fog one minute torrential rain the next. According the the local rain gauges aroud 45mm had fallen since 9AM with more to come - many times the average monthly rainfall. The roof of the pub was getting tested with buckets and towels strategically arranged to catch each new leak that was found. This explained why when booking in I was told "I'll put you in number 7...it's pretty dry".

On the menu at the pub: roast lamb. As a reformed carnivore I had roast lamb without the lamb (i.e. a big plate of roast veggies), and a quondong pie with ice cream. Munching away at the front bar it seemed that the electricity was on borrowed time because the town generator was running on fumes. The fuel truck hadn't turned up. Apparently it's cheaper to run a diesel 24x7x365 than to bring a power line in. Mind you, the locals pay a 10% premium on their power bills for the privilege.

I was a reminder of what we take for granted living in the city where everything is available and instant.

The only other guest at the pub was a chap who had walked 15km in the rain from his bogged car. Someone had already been dispatched to pull them out, but they missed him on the road. His companions who stayed with the car spent the night out there. They were on the wrong side of a rising creek.