Not such a windy night as expected, but lord it was cold. Very difficult to pry ourselves (okay, myself) out of bed this morning. This was after we discovered an airstrip ran not 50m from our tent and a plane landed during the night.
We dawdled this morning to allow Brett a bit more time to catchup after he overnighted on the Nullarbor. He, Richard and Paul arrive about 9.30am with much fanfare and ahooga. Although I thought Brett’s horn sounded more like a strangled duck.
We now had a full compliment: Sue and Nev, Pete and Kay, Toni and Ray, Des, Tania and Daz, Brett, Richard and Paul. John and Kay and Bob and Marilyn and ahead at Port August at last checkin.
Still pushing into a strong headwind meaning the fuel consumption and speed are suffering. Des had a flat and Neville and Sue had some wiring issues, but otherwise we charted a short day into Fowlers Bay.
We were warned by many other travelers about the ‘rough’ road into Fowlers and advised not to attempt it. But we were not to be put off and soldiered on. Pffttt. What a joke, the 10 km of gravel was significantly less rough than the Perth to Kal highway. We had an early camp and everyone industriously attended to vehicles and cooking the last of the veges before the quarantine in Ceduna.
Russel Coight moment #3 – Brett, while attempting to use all the ice and whiskey before it melted (see photo), fell out of his camp chair and had it fold up on him, pinning him to the ground. No one was quick enough with a camera to capture the glorious moment.
Ray and Toni have travelled ahead to try to get their fridge fixed in Ceduna or Adelaide.