I had a reasonable nights sleep rough camping. Like all animals, I marked my patch, not sure if essences of Nick is a Feral Pig attractant or retardant, either way they kept their distance. I woke early and had the usual raisin toast and tea at the very establishment that had refused to accommodate me, it was the only place in town,. In fact it was the town, Moonie is just a name given to a crossroad in an oil exploration area.

The weather was mild and any breeze there was favoured me as I set out on the 130 kms ride to Miles. It proved a day for the birds, with the recent rain, sunshine and fertile country. Insects, frogs, butterflies and birds were everywhere. At one point while riding I saw so many crows you would have to call it a mass murder!

Later a hooded insect eater, which may be it’s actual name, made a precision strike on a couple of courting butterflies picking one off directly in front of me, leaving the other to dance alone.

Cattle or “scrubbies” roam fairly freely often onto the road. A couple of times I made eye contact with these animals, we gazed at one another across species.

The wallabies made their regular appearance, as did currawongs, galahs, finches, swifts and budgerigars.

Stopping half way for lunch at a roadside rest stop, a caravan pulls in driven by a women with hubby in the passengers seat, sharing the driving or perhaps the dementia’s kicking in “Flies are a bugger”.

“Sure are” I said

“You got a motor on that?” she asked pointing to Mr Surly and BOB.

“No it’s a solar panel to charge my phone”

“Well I reckon you’re mad, but good luck to you!”

“Thanks” I said and you too.

Arriving in Miles I paid $20 for my campsite before really seeing what was on offer.  The ground was hard and gravelly and it was too close to the highway with a filthy amenities block.

I made a quick visit to the Information Centre (an Orwellian sounding name) and spoke to the older women who volunteered there.

“Is there anywhere else to camp in town?”

“Yes down at the show grounds, see the caretaker David, tell him I sent you”

Back to the original caravan park first. I got my $20 back while telling the disinterested owner that I camped in the bush last night and it was better than paying for what he had on offer. “Suit yourself.”

Sometimes it’s good to follow your instincts. David the Caretaker (another wonderful Orwellian phrase), couldn’t be more helpful. Other residents are mostly local workers. I chatted to one nice guy Bruce who at 60 has had to move about looking for work, Jesus saved him from drinking but he just couldn’t find him a steady job …