David's Journal Entry

Today was savage. 120km of near-constant rolling hills and headwinds. We are both struggling. The talk of Elliott being out of goods and dangerous because of two groups of First Nations people being involved in some sort of turf war proved entirely unfounded (unsurprisingly) and the lady in the servo couldn't have been more helpful, despite being in the throes of a (quickly resolved) power cut as we arrived. 

Having stocked up on food I got busy filtering water, a little frustrated that we hadn't taken up the offer to replenish our bottles from the Grey Nomads at camp this morning. Mike had assured them we had plenty, but my thirsty, sweaty carcass was less convinced, hence the top-up. The delay inevitably put a dent in our progress, but not as much as my slowly deflating rear tyre, which has needed intermittent pumping for the last five days. Our best guess is that it is a valve issue as it is very unpredictable, completely flat for two of the last four mornings, but fine for the other two. It all came to a head today when my (rather well-used and ancient) pump finally gave up. The hose and connector parted ways. Mike's pump works equally well, but now we have no redundancy for what is an essential piece of kit and in truth, his pump doesn't seem as durable (somewhat ironically, but mine had served well for 15 years).

Like rookies we pushed on, only making the decision to change the tube 10km out of Elliot...a job which would have been considerably easier at a service station rather than on the side of the highway. Thankfully the marathon plus tyre was more straightforward to deal with than expected.

The possible comforts that Renner Springs might offer were running through our heads as we cranked past the vaunted blue signs indicating what we could expect to find. Flush toilets? A cooked meal? A campsite? Ultimately we found a desert oasis, with piping hot showers, a pool and importantly a restaurant with a bar. 

Over dinner, we met two anthropologists, one of whom lives and works in Tennant Creek. Just like Elliott, we have been given plenty of advice to steer clear of (this unavoidable) town, but it seems that Tennant Creek is more like Luton than Mogadishu, a little rough around the edges certainly, and not without its issues, but where isn't? In any event, we will have to pass through and the IGA (Independent Grocers Association - a store) will be a necessary destination, as we will be very low on supplies by the time we get there. 

Six Cooper's Pale Ales later and with bellies full of chicken schnitzel, chips and salad we headed to the tents we had set up earlier in the afternoon and settled in for a very long sleep, comforted by the knowledge of the zero-day to come.