Moura was a small town. Large Donga farm on the outskirts. Guess the miners all fly in fly out. It was odd that all the people crossings in the town had the "Give way to traffic" signs, yet the crossing on the highway didn't.
Stopped briefly on the Dawson River, but was too early in the day to stop. Found a camp by the side of the road in a cow paddock.
My excitement for the day was running over a small live snake! Yiks!! It was on a dirt road, and I was watching the birds and not looking closely at the ground. It seemed okay and slithered off.(What was I going to do if it wasn't okay?) I put my feet back down from the handle bars and kept pedalling. I'd seen a few as road kill during the afternoon. Lots of long grass about with the good rains. I was extra careful about my tent site.
Next morning rode on and met Karl. Karl has traveled over 46000km on his bicycle. He put my kit to shame. He only had a swag, a change of clothes, small tool kit, and water bottle. He averages 25km/hr to my 19km/hr. Neat. But I couldn't stand the noise.
Over another range today. Funny after the last one it was down to sea level and then back up to this one.
