A Morning of Unexpected Kindness
The quiet morning at Nundroo began with the rustle of the bush as I slowly walked from my campsite toward the roadhouse.
There, to my surprise, I saw a familiar face—the kind man I had met just yesterday in Yalata. With a warm laugh, he greeted me, “We meet again,” and handed me another energy drink, just as he had the day before.
He told me his wife was Korean, and perhaps that was why he felt a natural closeness to Asians. For me, it was simply touching to be cared for, even in such a small way.
Beside him, another man offered me half of his sandwich. The crisp morning air mixed with their kindness, and once again I was reminded of how often my journey has been carried forward by people’s generosity.
Morning Routine and a Sudden Setback
When it was time to leave, I followed my usual morning ritual—stretching to awaken my body and prepare it for the day ahead. This little ceremony helps prevent injury, a habit I’ve learned to treasure as a long-distance traveler.
The sky was clear, the wind calm. It felt like a perfect day to ride.
But journeys rarely go exactly as planned.
Once again, the bolt holding my rear rack snapped, the same problem I had faced before. With no spare parts and no proper tools, I had to improvise—redistributing the weight, taping and tying things down, making the best of what I had.
The blue sky above felt almost mocking in its beauty, and for a moment my heart wavered. But I reminded myself: “Look ahead, keep going.” That has always been the traveler’s mindset.
Help in Penong
After steady pedaling, I reached Penong.
Outside a small roadhouse, I was buying supplies when another kind stranger approached me. “Let me take a look, maybe I can fix it,” he said, kneeling down to inspect my bike.
It was only a few minutes together, but in that short time, I found myself saying “thank you” again and again. Such moments, brief yet sincere, have become the true treasures of this journey.
A Quiet Night in the Bush
That evening, I camped in an unmarked patch of bushland just outside the roadhouse.
There were no facilities, no lights, nothing to indicate it was a campsite. But out here on the Nullarbor, almost anywhere can become a natural shelter.
There were no encounters, no pressures, no noise—just the quiet night sky above. I let myself sink into that silence and drifted to sleep.
