It was a windy morning. Things tried to blow away but I caught them.
Once again I was climbing mountains. There were road crews out. They were building drainage and paving the stream crossings. The high passes are paved too. I had to walk on plenty of the hills. Not because I can’t ride up, just that they’re too steep. Don’t start thinking that I’ve got a handle on this mountain biking thing.
I walked a lot. Sometimes it was just easier to keep walking instead of climbing back on. Once I ran into a sand trap. I started to skid out. I looked down and saw that it was all sand under me, no rocks or pokey plants. So I just flmphed down into a pile of sand.
Around lunch I came to a dry river crossing with a half finished drainage built. The workers were gone but they’d thoughtfully left some car seats in the semi-shade. I leaned my bike against one and sat in the other. 
Not all the water crossings were dry. Sometimes they were full and looked like magic oases. 
Of course that’s where everyone lives. Not in the dry bush. My dreams of camping next to water were not to be. The waterside spots were all taken. I pushed on passed sundown until I came to a tiny settlement. I followed a little path off the road and found a flat spot without too much goat poo.
Spinstera 