Sometimes, when I hear people say, ‘you live and you learn’, I wonder if all I’ve been doing for the past 20 years or so is living. Well, on our journey to Mungo there were plenty of lessons that I’m sure we didn’t learn, included but not limited to, desert fog, empty fuel tanks and making friends on the road. But it all started in our one and only megacity.
Known by many names. The city of shining lights. The city of love. The city that never sleeps. Or for those of you who’ve dared to see the true side of it, Sin City. We, however, know it simply as Canberra, our shining star.
To say Baguette was in awe of Canberra would be an understatement. Coming from a small village in France, she’s only had the opportunity to see the likes of Paris, Berlin and London before. The scale of a modern metropolis such as Canberra blew her away. The endless sprawl of skyscrapers three stories tall, kangaroos in the streets and a rail network rivalling the efficiency of the Japanese. Even with the slower pace due to COVID, it was almost too much for a small-town European girl, and so after a quick pitstop with Mum and Dad’s favourite, El, we continued.
At the time, no one who’d been in Victoria in the past 14 days was allowed into Queensland (or most of Australia), so we set about occupying ourselves in NSW for a fortnight.
That shouldn’t be too hard, and we could surely go about this in a pragmatic and logical manner. Or, we could act on impulse and drive to the other side of the state, Mungo National Park, because it looked kinda cool.
And it was kinda cool. Super cool actually. Really super cool. But as with most adventures, it’s the getting there that’s the fun part. The road to Mungo was no different. It’s where we started to find our rhythm with the trip. Up until Canberra, I think both Baguette and I could agree that we hadn’t really ‘settled’ into it. We were still carrying some of the frantic energy from the city with us.
That changed pretty quickly when we got a few ‘proper camping nights’ under our belt. And by that, I mean some stars-out-campfire-chat kinda night. Because as cliched as it is, it’s really the people that you meet along the way that create the most cherished memories. The nights hadn’t gotten any warmer, but with a couple of beers and some good conversation, we suddenly found ourselves staying up past 8pm again. Two words for you folks: Party. Animals.
Funnily enough though, it was one of the nights without anyone else around that’s the most memorable from this part of the trip. We pulled up about 30km short of Mungo searching for a spot to free camp before the national park. It was a barren, desert-like landscape, mostly filled with rolling sandy hills a few dead trees. Making our own track for a couple of kilometres got us well and truly out of sight and as the sun set over the arid landscape, the stars started to come out one by one. They crept up on us slowly but soon the whole sky was littered with them.
Now, I’ve spent a few nights under the stars before, but holy moly there is just something about them. No matter how many times you’ve seen the milky way on full bore, it’ll still take your breath away. Like staring into a campfire, you can get lost for hours.
Until this point of the night, the moon hadn’t risen yet. But soon it started to slowly crawl above the horizon. It was so bright and so orange that at first, we got scared thinking it might have been a car coming straight for us. This thing was a beast. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the moon so big and certainly not so blood red before, slowly lighting up the whole landscape with an eerie glow.
Now with that kind of action going on, we would have been fools to set up the tent. Instead, we opted to curl up next to the fire and spend the night alternating between gazing up at the moon, the stars or down into the glowing, dancing embers.
Waking up in the morning though, the clear skies were gone and a thick coat of fog had descended. Apparently, this wasn’t uncommon back in Baguette’s small French village, but I was loving it. Fog! In the desert! Whodathunkit! We couldn’t see more than 50m and when walking, it almost felt like it was raining because of all the little droplets hanging in the air.
Over the next days and weeks, I learned that fog wasn’t all that common out there. And pretty quickly I got over the excitement of wet sleeping bags and freezing mornings, but still, fog! In the desert!
Eventually, we made it to Mungo. But you know, as gobsmacking as it was, just driving around a national park can get a little bit boring at times. Thankfully, Baguette and I spiced up the excitement a couple of levels when we realised that we possibly didn’t have enough fuel to get out of there…
Don’t worry though, I’m not an idiot. I’m actually an extremely experienced and proficient adventurer and motorcyclist. I had prepared for this. We brought a fuel bladder with another 8L capacity with us for these exact situations. Aaaaaand didn’t bother to fill it up…
No matter, I’m sure we could buy some fuel off someone on the side of the road if it really came to it. Oopsies, no cash…
But you know what, travellers all look out for each other, they’ll probably just give us some if we ask nicely. Ahhhh yep, I think we left the siphon at home…
Sometimes, when I hear people say, ‘you live and you learn’, I wonder if all I’ve been doing for the past 20 years or so is living. Too late to turn back now.
These things always tend to work out though and we made it to Pooncarie (I know what you’re thinking, amazing name) with so little fuel left in the tanks that even the US wouldn’t bother invading. I’m sure there is a lesson there somewhere but I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
Ah well, maybe next time.
Pat
So there’s no point fluffing about here. You probably want to know how and why I smashed my ankle into a few bits. It’s honestly not even that exciting. I wish I could tell you that I was doing a sick wheelie just after jumping through a ring of fire and dodging drop bears and hoop snakes but it’s much more boring than that… Or at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.