Agnes Water to Cairns Part II

The fake leather seats squeaked in protest as we scrunched our bodies to find a position offering enough comfort to fall asleep into. We slept fitfully, unable to recognise whether we had in fact fallen asleep when waking until the clock told us another few hours had passed by.

Woken by the driver's announcement of a stop, we found daylight had returned. At a tired roadside cafe we wolfed down bright yellow scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

An endless line of telegraph poles shadowed the arrow flight road on which we travelled. Turnings to farms whisked by as their lands stretched out across to the West. Skeletal cows grazed on mustard pastures as outback windmills fluttered, their metal fins glinting in the sun, to draw up water to the surface. White gum trees, their bases blackened bases by bush fires, dotted the grasslands to offer scant shade. Further on where woodland thickened, mint and auburn leaves clung to their branches.

Hour dripped after hour in a ground hog dog day as we rolled past a white road sign that prophetically instructed 'Survive This Drive'.

Our only other stop before Cairns was to grab lunch. We solemnly ate chicken burgers in a waterfront town, relieved at the fresh air and food whilst contemplating the hours and miles still to go. With the taste of the burger still in our mouths we hesitantly got back onto the bus, consoling ourselves that only a few hours remained.

Relief and fresh air were breathed in deeply when we finally arrived in the mild humidity of a Cairns' winter evening. However the true relief came when we stretched out on the bed at our hostel, the journey's punishment slowly melting out of us. We had 'survived the drive'.Læs mere