The caravanners were all away early, and I was the only one left in the park. I had a brief conversation with a woman who was in the van just across from my campsite. She and her husband were on their way to Esperance, too, and we agreed that the countryside looked magnificent, and that the wildflowers probably caused our blocked noses. That was the limit of the discussion; the couple wanted to hit the road so they could get to Esperance early.

Apart from the canola crops, I have seen paddocks infested with a yellow, daisy-like flower. I found out it is cape weed, a noxious plant that is very difficult to eradicate. I also discovered that the wattle scent may be complemented by a low shrub that has a yellow flower similar to boronia. I will find out eventually what it is.

The terrain continued to undulate east of Ravensthorpe. The first 10km was quite seductive and I averaged 20km/h for an hour. Then the hills started again, although they weren't tortuous. Yesterday's rest benefited my legs, but they did start to run out of energy about 70km, and my stops to recuperate became more frequent.

I bought a box of eight strawberry muesli bars for $3.00 in Ravensthorpe and while they were smaller than the high-energy types from two days ago, they seemed to sustain me just as well. Fluid intake again was not a problem, and I am doing well to wean myself off the commercial isotonic drinks and on to plain water plus a dose of glucose powder when needed. It makes sense to keep my money in my pocket rather than put it in the coffers of Messrs Coke, Pepsi and Schweppes for what I can determine to be only a marginally positive effect. I think it was only the taste that kept me buying the drinks up to now. Perhaps I should experiment with some "berry" flavoured cordial concentrate to make up my own version.

The roadtrains were something of a problem today. I had to take to the verges just about every time they overtook me, and on one occasion I ended up in some really soft gravel that almost caused me to fall off. I don't know what the vehicles are carrying, on what seems to be a shuttle service, but again I will find out.

Trucks, and cars, that "hunt" in packs of two or three seem to be the most dangerous because I am unable to see the second vehicle in my rear vision mirror. Conversely, the driver of the second vehicle is unlikely to see a bicycle at the side of the road, especially from behind a roadtrain and while cresting a hill. Two possibilities can arise: The lead vehicle can move towards the centre of the road to avoid me as the second vehicle starts an overtaking manoeuvre; or I naturally moved back on to the bitumen immediately after the front vehicle has passed, and into the path of the second vehicle.

Wind wash from passing vehicles, especially trucks, also can "suck" a rider back towards the road. The practical solution seemed to be to keep the front wheel as straight as possible when taking to gravel verges. Ultimately, I will stop if there is any doubt as to what might happen with approaching vehicles. The lower speed of a touring cyclist helps here, but it also pays to keep the brakes in good condition and well adjusted.

Another interesting phenomenon was vehicles passing in opposite directions right where my bike was, sometimes right on crests. One would think that with all that length of country road, the minimal number of vehicles, and with all the time in the world, the vehicles would pass anywhere else but where I was.

After leaving Munglinup, I was greeted with a long climb from the bridge across the local river valley. About 5km out of Munglinup, I turned right into a gate bearing the Singing Winds postbox. The road was gravel and I chose the best route I could to avoid the potholes and corrugations.

Singing Winds is a 1800-hectare, coarse cropping and cattle property run by Don and Henrietta MacKenzie. The house is reasonably modern, but well lived in. It is probably like visiting grandparents on the farm. I'm looking forward to talking tonight about the farm with the MacKenzies.

The bike has performed well. I tuned the front derailleur today, but it still needs some fine-tuning tomorrow. It should have been done by the bike shop back in Perth, and was okay when I delivered it there, but hasn't really performed up to scratch, especially the shift on to the large chainring. It also is dropping off the small chainring when I shift down.

Don MacKenzie suggested the strong scent from the yellow boronia-like flower was from Acacia chrysocephala. It is a native confined to this part of Western Australia. Oddly, it doesn't seem to have a colloquial name.

The Singing Winds house is about 10km from the coast as the crow flies, and on a still night, or with the right wind direction, the waves can be heard from the beach... which is actually 25km away by road. Apparently, the beach is very safe to swim from because of a reef that runs across the inlet. The waves break on the reef, leaving the equivalent of 25 hectares of 3-metre deep but calm water. The beach and surrounds become overpopulated at Christmas and Easter because of its popularity with city people. In 1969, it lay undiscovered, but Don and about 10 others drove a track through, gravelled it, and made the beach accessible. Initially, this was only for the local community, including the school that used it for swimming lessons. The local shire now has responsibility for the area.

Don told me that I passed a dingo and rabbit-proof fence on the way to Singing Winds. The fence was erected to stop the animals moving westward into the pasturelands. The fence starts at Starvation Bay on Powells Point, and goes all the way northward and westward to Kalbarri on the west coast. That's around 800km north of Perth. A cattlegrid originally crossed the highway to mark the fence-line, but now it is marked by a Telstra exchange just after Burlabup Creek. The fence is about four feet high with about 35mm wire mesh. It extends into the sea on both coasts; the posts were put in place by drilling holes in the rock, then backfilling and cementing the posts in place with molten lead. The might of the sea, however, has since washed the posts away.

This is classified as mallee country from the fence through to Esperance. According to Don, mallee means "many stemmed". The trunk grows underground, and the crown emerges at ground level, giving the impression that it has many stems. In fact, the stems are the branches. The "roots" are extremely hard and durable, but are very good for firewood. Unless freshly cleared ground has a special plough run through it to bring the roots to the surface, the boles continue to emerge over the next 20-plus years, as the MacKenzies can testify.

We spent the rest of the evening talking about the MacKenzies' life in England, Kenya and finally Western Australia. We had a simple dinner of lamb cutlets, three vegetables, and apple pie and ice-cream. I was a bit annoyed when Henrietta told me the cost was $35 (not $25 as I had been quoted on the phone by Don). But then, a double bed, a cooked evening meal, breakfast the following morning, fruit to take for lunch, and some evening company seemed to be worth it. It was a lesson to ensure the costs are clearly set out beforehand.

Henrietta has been quite insistent that I sign the visitors' book, so I will have to think of something appropriate to say. It was interesting to meet the pair of them. Don is teaching himself to type so he can write his life story on a computer. He has achieved an error-free speed of 14 words a minute.

I noticed some sunburn today on my arms and legs. It's not serious, but I will have to be more careful. The weather forecast looks okay for tomorrow, although I still need to try to get started early to avoid the headwinds. At least where I am tonight has no trains, planes, or automobiles, arguing caravan park residents or any other noise. Not even bird calls. Roll on tomorrow!

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