Western Australia is pretty sparsely populated. The Nullarbor has enough people in it to fill a bus. The Eyre Peninsula is quiet, mainly sheep. Adelaide and environs are quite dense, but not enough to feel at all crowded. There’s then another quiet patch before Geelong hits you, with Melbourne following swiftly behind with a large metropolitan area and a conurbation that seemed to go on forever (today). This is all from my narrow bike/road perspective of course, but what I’m getting to is this. At some point a population, any population, will get dense enough to contain a person who will try and throw a kebab at you as they pass you at speed on the freeway. They will miss, mainly due to a lack of understanding, intuitive or otherwise, of physics, but the attempt remains. We can’t let cities get out of control like this; doner gets wasted, cyclists get bemused or upset and the freeway starts to smell of chilli sauce.
I then met David and Andy, father and son, who run a takeaway in Yarragon, a small town just off the M1. Their family were from Cornwall, so we chatted about that. David also gave me the lowdown on the road ahead. He said that I would pass through the Haunted Hills, so called because no cattle rancher of horseman could successfully keep livestock there; the animals seemed to refuse to graze there, so it was assumed the hills were haunted. I must’ve looked a bit scared because David said not to worry, the hills weren’t haunted “anymore”. When they started to develop the area they discovered large coal deposits in the Haunted Hills; as a part of this there were large pockets of air in the rock, not far below the surface. The cattle could feel the hollowness beneath their feet as they walked, unsettling them enough to put them off their food.
As far as cycling goes I am extremely tired and cannot wait for my rest day. The breakfast (1st) waiting beside me is a tin of sweetened condensed milk. If I eat it all (I will) that’ll be 1200 calories in one hit – amazing stuff.