A Rare Morning of Indulgence
At the roadhouse diner, I allowed myself a breakfast that felt almost too luxurious for this journey—25 dollars for a plate of food.
Until now, I had always saved money carefully. But watching the British cyclist order freely at every stop had swayed me. For once, I gave in to temptation.
“Well, maybe it’s okay once in a while,” I whispered to myself as I breathed in the rich aroma of coffee.
The map reminded me that the goal, Ceduna, was now within reach. I had already cycled more than 1,000 kilometers of the 1,200 that made up the Nullarbor crossing. For the first time, the sheer distance I had covered hit me.
“…I really pedaled all this way.”
The thought filled me with quiet pride.
Faces from the Past Return
Then something unexpected happened.
I ran into the balloon festival staff I had met days earlier. They had planned to leave early, so I thought I’d never see them again. Yet here they were, laughing as though no time had passed.
And as if that weren’t enough, I saw the British cyclist once again. He showed me his phone, and to my amazement, there was a BBC article featuring him.
I couldn’t find the right words—only admiration.
An Unforgettable Gesture
As I was preparing to leave, an older man approached me out of nowhere.
“Here, take this,” he said, holding out a $100 bill.
“What? Why…?”
There was no explanation. No reason. Just kindness.
The warmth of that gesture lingered in my palm long after he walked away.
Throughout the day, people kept approaching me. A man laughed and pointed at the Japanese T-shirt I was wearing—“Does that say oysters? Cool!”—and we both chuckled. Later, I posed for a photo with an Italian traveler.
Every meeting, every smile, added new colors to this day.
A Miraculous Reunion by Firelight
As I finally set out from the Nullarbor Roadhouse, I shook hands with the British cyclist and said, “See you somewhere down the road.”
But the miracles weren’t finished.
To my amazement, I met the same couple I had first encountered in Eucla. Their eyes lit up when they saw me.
“Oh! You again! Come on, join us for dinner!”
That evening, a campfire glowed against the fading sky. Meat was thrown into a heavy iron pot—enough for five people, at least. It was hospitality, Australian style: loud, warm, and full of laughter.
“Here, have some beer too!” they said, pressing a cold bottle into my hand.
The fire crackled, their voices blended with the sunset, and I thought: today is a day of miracles.
Unexpected gifts. Unexpected reunions. Once again, I was reminded—I am carried forward on this journey by the kindness of others.
