Sunrise and a Dog’s Eyes
The sky was painted with the colors of dawn.
Since leaving Norseman, every sunrise had been a little different, yet always equally beautiful. The cold wind stung my cheeks as I sat down for breakfast, bracing myself for what I knew would be another tough day.
That’s when a large dog appeared from nowhere. At first I froze, unsure of its intentions. But then I saw its eyes—soft, almost playful, as if asking me to join in a game. Before I realized it, I was smiling.
Nearby, the traveler I had met in Iron Knob was preparing to leave as well. A guitar strapped to his back, music as his companion—it struck me deeply. Some people carry tools, others carry food. He carried songs.
Headwinds and an Endless Road
The road to Port Augusta stretched on, unbending, unforgiving. The headwind hit me like a wall, pushing me back with every turn of the pedals.
No matter how hard I tried, progress was painfully slow. At the 10 km mark before town, I was forced to stop and rest.
And then, disaster again. Another puncture. By now, I had lost count.
“Why here? Why now, just 10 kilometers left?”
I had no choice but to push the bike on foot. For 5 long kilometers, step after heavy step, the wind pressing harder against me. But when the outline of the town finally appeared on the horizon, relief softened the weight in my chest.
The Town of Port Augusta
At last, I reached Port Augusta.
🗺 Port Augusta, South Australia — Known as the “crossroads” of the continent. To the west lies the Nullarbor, to the north the Outback, and to the east Adelaide. With a population of around 12,000, it is a hub where every road seems to meet. The Spencer Gulf, looking almost like an inland lake, spreads beside the town, giving it a rare sense of openness.
It was the first place since Ceduna that truly felt like a town. Buildings lined the streets, cars passed constantly, people moved with purpose. After weeks in the wild, the air of a small city was both strange and reassuring. The quiet blue of the gulf added to that sense of comfort.
A Stranger’s Smile
Later, I rested at an OTR convenience store on the edge of town. Sitting down with a drink, I was approached by a man I had never seen before.
He was from Papua New Guinea, his English thick with accent, his smile warm and constant. He chatted with me for a while, then, without a word, disappeared inside and returned with food.
“Travelers deserve kindness,” he said simply.
And in that moment, I felt the truth of it.
A Night’s Memory
Strong winds. Punctures. Long stretches of walking. It all fades quickly when met with small acts of kindness.
I stayed only one night in Port Augusta. But the memories of that short time—the playful eyes of the dog, the traveler with his guitar, and the generous man from Papua New Guinea—will stay with me much longer than the distance I covered.
