Burra to Tooralie

After a quick bike check, we made a start on the 69 Ks to Tooralie Station where we will camp out once again. After 2 nights in a beautiful cottage including a laundry we will be coming right back down to earth. Our coughs and colds have improved slightly after those nights in the warmth, and we set off full of energy after our rest. We rode up into the Lofty Range further, and the terrain changed from farmland to scrub. We began to realise how isolated we were when we looked down and could see only one farm homestead for hundreds of kilometres in the valley below us. Looked onto the furtherest possible distance imagining I might see the next city - Melbourne. But the horizon simply dissolves into a blueish haze. I am reminded I'm in Australia, not New Zealand, where from a lofty vantage point like this you'd be able to see the next town, and the next, and the next city beyond it. As we turned our backs on the vast but empty view scrubby low lying trees (don't know what they're called, but I'll refer to them as Lavatrees because they're handy like that) made the surroundings feel closed in compared to the open wheat fields we had been passing through.  Baz noticed he'd left his back pack behind somewhere about ten minutes back where we'd stopped for a quick rest and a bite to eat, so he went back to look for it while I rode on to morning tea where we agreed to meet again. I waited and waited but no sign of Baz. He had left it back in Burra, as it turned out. But someone (Justincredible as it happens) saw it and had it with him in his ute. With that in hand, we carried on without it knowing we'd get it from him at the end of the day. Called in to Sir Hubert Wilkinn's childhood home, which is being restored at the moment. He was an amazing character known for his intellect and explorations. I can imagine that living in that desolate, cold and isolated place anyone with a curious mind would be driven to explore other horizons.Too cold to linger long though so we kept riding to warm up, and rolled into Tooralie Station in time to set the tents up, put on as many layers as possible and eat dinner with the gloves on. Pre-dinner drinks were enjoyed on campstools in the dying rays of sunshine, but as quickly as the light faded were seeking warmth inside the big marquee. Dinner conversation lingered briefly in the form of vapour as the words left our mouths, but soon the tent warmed up with the aid of big gas heaters, hot food, and lots of happy people seated at cosy distances around tables adorned with assorted bottles of velvety red wine - from South Australia of course.