Umbilical cords are cut from Here We Go Again. We head out on our own facing the nomadic life of the Grey Nomad on our own. We have turned around and headed back the way we came
Whatever decision we make, for now its all about the wandering, the seeing, and the recording of our adventures in words and pictures.
Set up and ready for the first night on our own, Robyn has pangs of loneliness but we have a normal dinner and being in a decent sized regional centre we have TV reception, so we settle in.
Bark is lost and with bark removal comes blood – my blood.
Meandering around the country, starting early. Just what we are trying to catch up on now.
For the devotee, grand final day lasts all day. There are preliminary games. There is the pregame spectacular both on and off the field to be enjoyed (or not as the case may be) but it is an event.
There is also talk of Scratchy, one of the station’s bulls. So big have his feet grown he can safely traverse the cattle grids.
Lucky for them I have the snatch strap handy and very quickly they are on their way as are we heading towards the other end of the beach, but via the bitumen.
I take time to giggle with the remaining contingent and we have a six degrees of separation moment.
I suppose its the price you pay for progress.
Its still only mid morning and although we have skirted around Dampier and the port, we are still yet to track down Red Dog.