I fell asleep to the distant sound of shotgun blasts and woke several times to wild yahooing,  it was just another typical night in Narrabri.

After the usual fruit toast and tea at the local bakery, I was off to an early start on the road to Moree. I had the Mt Kaputar National Park on my right, rising out of the flat wheat fields, with silos overflowing,  while sheep grazed on the stubble. As seems usual, the wind picked up and the road verge disappeared.

The bike has been making some strange noises but then so have I. perhaps we are both feeling the effects of 14 days of straight riding. I have an online app Bike Doctor, and have been fiddling with the rear derailleur and the cables, but I think the chain is wearing loose. Some big riding to come and tomorrow’s Sunday.

Riding into Moree, wheat was replaced with cotton fields that stretched across the horizon.

At the Caravan Park, they offer free artisan spas, pumped at a constant temperature from deep within the earth. Not my cup of tea though, even for this weary cyclist.

Half a dozen guys sitting in the camp kitchen were happy for the distraction when I arrived, “You from Melbourne? I wouldn’t even want to drive that far!” They we good-natured fellas even when I graciously refused to drink Rum with them taking my tea total stance with good humor.

One bloke asked me “What’s Melbourne like? I was thinking of going there looking for work.”

“Like anywhere else I guess, plenty of work if you’re looking  it’s what you make it.”

“Yeah, I reckon I might go there one day.”