After four nights and three days in Port Pirie it was time to make a move before the next weather front moved in. It had been a relaxing time but we were starting to go stir crazy – Port Pirie is not the most happening place.  

At 7am on Saturday morning we set off. Yes 7am, our earliest start yet. It was awful! No I’m not talking about getting up early – that was fine. Susan gave me yogurt for breakfast! Honestly, talk about the breakfast of champions, well this wasn’t one of them! She did try to help by also giving me some banana bread but by this time I knew all she was doing was creating her own ideal breakfast.  On the other hand, my ideal breakfast has to include at least one fried egg.  Vive la difference ! 

Thankfully, our early start was accompanied by fine weather. After the cold and rain of the last few days we cycled with a bit of a tailwind in 32c. We flew along relatively flat roads and my only concern was my bright red thighs as I had forgotten to apply sunscreen. It was good to be back on the road. 

Now I bet you’re wondering how did they take that picture? I cringe when I say that we bought a selfie stick! I didn’t include my legs in the picture but just imagine it looks like I’m wearing a bodysuit in the same colour as my shirt!

We passed through the town of  Locheil and guess what they have in the lake?  Yes that’s how they spell it and it’s a lake not a loch. 

You would really think that Australia has enough of its dangerous creatures without stealing one of ours!

Shortly after this picture we came across a roadblock, southbound on the main A1 Port Wakefield Road.  A police motorcyclist informed us that the road was closed due to flooding just outside Port Wakefield, our intended destination for the night. I asked all the relevant questions but didn’t get much information in return. He was pleasant but not really that helpful. It’s perfectly understandable as he was a police motorcyclist but he looked good with his leathers and shades and he was probably very good at zooming about. 😀

We had no real alternative but to continue heading south. Our choice was 70km back to Port Pirie or a detour of at least a few hundred kilometres.  After discussion, we headed on with police approval so that we could assess the situation further down the road. 50km later we reached a second police motorcyclist roadblock. Same situation – he was looking good in his leathers and shades. Apparently it was all in the hands of a guy in charge of the road closure (Mr Road) and, after discussion, he allowed us to continue.

When we got to the flooded road we parked the bike and assessed the situation. It didn’t look too bad at all. Honestly, it was a big puddle with a little bit of a river in the middle.  An attractive blonde Tv reporter with film camera was on the scene so I took off my helmet, straightened my hair and rubbed the white sunblock off my face. For added effect I took a deep breath and created a washboard stomach as I approached.  Susan could see I was out to impress but knew I couldn’t cover up the overpowering smell of fly repellent or the bright red thighs. I’m sure I caught them sharing a ‘I’m sorry for you’ look! 

This flood was big news in South Australia and the town had suffered greatly as this was the only main road north south and it was a holiday weekend.  Local business had been devastated by this closure. 

Mr Road approached in his 4×4 driving from town through the flood – I noticed the water didn’t reach his mud flaps. He said he would assess the situation and come back to me.  I spoke to the fire service and they offered to escort me through the water but Mr Road said ‘no’.  ‘The river has burst its banks and is flowing across the road and you could get washed out to sea’ he said with a stern face. I recognised the demeanour of an official with power in his hands and said nothing. The police motorcyclists took no proactive role – yes maybe I’m being unfair but they did look good zooming about and not getting involved.  

Oh it was such a struggle to be nice and pleasant when I was stuck at the wrong side of a ‘puddle’ and my motel for the night was 1km away. 

Then Mr Road returned and when I approached he said again ‘I will come back to you’ and gave me a ‘waggy’ finger before he drove off. Now in these situations I’m glad Susan trusts my judgement because when I said ‘right Susan, keep hold of the bike, we’re going through’ we clicked into forward action. Teamwork. 

We entered the water and all was fine. After 50m we got to the bit where the river was crossing the road. It was flowing and it caught the bike and it moved sideways. Things then got pretty serious – Susan splashed me!  Thankfully I was able to hold it together and keep moving forward. The water washed over the top of my shoes when we reached the deepest point at 2 inches. I didn’t panic and continued to walk without breathing to maintain my washboard stomach – I had noticed another Tv crew at the other side filming our crossing. 

We had beaten the blockade but declined an interview with yet another blonde attractive news woman. I’m trying not to be sexist but when you’re a guy with a white sunblock face, an overpowing smell of fly repellent, red thighs and wet feet you would rather be interviewed by an ugly guy. At least then I have a slight chance of looking good on Tv!

In a country founded by great explorers we had added to their history by crossing a big ‘puddle’.

Soon we were in our Port Wakefield motel in time to see the Western Bulldogs win the Aussie football grand final. 125km and a great end to a challenging day. 

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