Liquid sky

Am in the proper Outback tonight, in the opal mining town of Coober Pedy. Rode some 800 kilometres after leaving the Backpack Oz hostel in Adelaide this morning. This is where much of the Mad Max movies was filmed, plus a chunk of Priscilla Queen of the Desert, and it's iconic, rough-and-ready Australia.

Tonight I'm staying in another hostel, an underground place carved out by the miners decades ago. Was going to camp under the stars, but it was all looking a bit too industrial as I approached town, and I'd read there are lots of abandoned shafts around here, so it's dangerous off the beaten track.

What to say about the journey? You could go mad with these endless straight roads stretching to the horizon. The occasional bend is a real surprise. Need to have your wits about you and to stay focussed. And for mile after mile I had the road to myself again. I've run out of ways to describe the hugeness (see!) of the landscape I've been riding through. Vast and open and largely flat, stretching to the horizon in front, to the sides and behind. Like nothing else I've experienced.

With my iPod dead, I've been singing in my head. Lots. And then composing poetry and haiku. Nothing great, but it kept me amused over the miles. "Liquid Sky" is about the shimmering heat haze. I have written up what I can remember below. Went well in my mind, but probably pretty naff written down. Hard to judge when you're tired, so I'll put the words down anyway, and live with the ridicule! The haiku were about the road trains. I'd been warned about them, but it's only when you meet them on the road that you appreciate just how careful you need to be around them. Imagine a huge, American-style truck cab or rig. Then bolt onto the back THREE of the big articulated trailers we're used to seeing in the UK. It really is like a 100 ton train travelling on the tarmac. A bugger to overtake as they're not limited on speed, and do 110 kmph [or more!] like the rest of the traffic.... and when they pass coming towards you too, the air turbulence in their slipstream is powerful and not something you can relax with on a motorbike. You need big cahunas and to stay in control around them, and the better plan is get the hell away because they're so big they can't stop or swerve or do anything a hurry. They just roll relentlessly on.

My three haiku, and what I can remember of poem are below. Don't mock too loudly? My brain was slightly fried in low 30s C. And it's been another long, extraordinary day. Just how lucky am I to be doing this?

ONE: O.M.F.G! It's headed straight at me. Road train nightmare.
TWO: Braced for the slipstream as it passes. Thundering onward.
THREE: They're not so scary, if you're wary. Mess and end up one.

LIQUID SKY.
Azure flows from the top of the tarmac triangle.
A shimmering reflection: liquid sky.
Crank the throttle and I'm flying towards it
But it ebbs, out of reach. The hot road is dry.
Thoughts get bigger with a bigger horizon.
Ahead, behind, wrapped round and set free.
Here, and the road, hurtling on with the journey.
A means, to what end? Searching, for me.