David's Journal Entry

The goat's head got me! A flat tyre started a flat day, perhaps it was the mild hangover after an unexpectedly good night, but I suspect it is more a legacy of lots and lots of km with limited interest. A sub-zero night with a significant frost was not a great start but bacon and eggs for breakfast, courtesy of Jase certainly helped. Calories are king though and despite the high-quality, nutritious food provided by Jase and Lala we were both still hungry. At Mike's (very welcome) suggestion we pulled up at the roadside and had a 'food bomb' - noodles, diced salami, julienned courgette and instant mash - half a litre of stodgy, energy-dense food which is filling in the extreme and more than enough fuel for the diesel engines that we are...there's no room for Tour de France Ferraris on this trip! 

We really are simple creatures, and so with full bellies and feeling deeply satisfied, we continued to Glendambo. We arrived as the sun was sinking and decided to prioritise a cold beer over setting up camp, although we did confirm spaces were available. The open fire was a clear incentive to remain inside as the temperature dropped and we had the pleasure of reacquainting ourselves with the grey nomads who had made us a cuppa in the morning at Attack Creek. After a good feed we set up camp before returning to the roadhouse for a little fireside warmth and a nightcap. It promised to be a very cold night and my experiment the night before of putting my inflatable mattress inside my sleeping bag (to help reduce the likelihood of goats head punctures) was only partially successful; I hadn't been warm or comfortable but did still have a hole-free sleeping pad. As it turned out we were both very comfortable overnight on ground devoid of goats' heads and using our kit as intended.

Today we met Mr. Mogs, Dogs and Bogs (or at least that's what he told us he goes by on Facebook, although a subsequent search didn't yield any results). His vehicle was extraordinary and wouldn't look out of place on the moon. I dread to think what his fuel bill must be because unlike us he is not running on pies, pints and porridge.