Today is the big boys day out. In another example of voluntary sex segregation, only boys have elected to go on the mine trip. Same way that only girls went to Roebourne. We're going to do the two hour bus trip round a great big open cut mine. Whee!
The mine is, well, big. They're well into the process of shipping quite a large hill to the coalfields down south, and it shows if you know where to look. I took a photo but it's not too visible there. We see a faint change in the green down on the plain, which is where the mining started. It's a long way away.
The bus driver is full of useful information and happy hints. As he should be, since that's his job. But it is interesting to find out that the red dust is "low grade" iron ore, meaning that in most parts of the world they'd mine it and refine it, but here there's refined ore still in the hillside. Meaning 99% pure haematite, compared to the paltry 95%+ dust that we've been eating for the last month.
We're sharing the bus with a heap of retired people on a Uniting Church tour, so the commentary is aimed at them. Very safe.I take photos of big machines, and big holes, and big stuff in general. It's worth while though, I haven't seen this stuff before and it's a bit eye-opening. We also got lots of spiel about revegetation and water reuse and stuff, so it looks as though the green politics is beginning to affect mining.
We return to find that the plan is to leave Tom Price late tomorrow and ride to Karajini (or Karijini, both spellings are pretty common). Tonight there's a split, some people want to bush camp in order to save money, some want the comforts of the camping ground. I decide that mining towns are not sufficiently novel to be worth spending a lot of time in, so I will ride to Karijini before the group and see how the trike goes on the gravel.
John also made the point that there's no wilderness in Australia, not in the sense we're used to in New Zealand. After forty thousand years of habitation, everywhere you go someone has been there before. And probably lived there rather than just passed through. In NZ it's probably still possible to stand where no human has ever stood, and not just because the land is geologically up and down like a yoyo, but because people are new there and the hard to get to places are frequently tourist-only areas, you couldn't live off the land there.
I leave Tom Price late-ish in the afternoon and ride as the sun sets. There's a nice tailwind which makes life easier. I got quite excited by a big warning sign just on sunset. "steep grade next 4km", which made me think of New Zealand. But out here steep is for the road trains, not cyclists or even cars. And it's a bit cheaty - 4km is up and down, not just up. I still end up pushing the trike rather than pedaling, because the Mt Drive feels as though it's soaking up power somewhere. There's a distinct sogginess in low gear, and I don't know how to fix it. It's definitely easier to push than pedal.
Going down the other side is also exciting, I'm doing 70-80kph with the sun behind me and I'm in shadow. So the road is a bit hard to see in any detail. Round a gentle bend and "road works" signs appear. I hit the brakes and then gravel, still doing 50 or so. Which is plenty fast on a loose surface. But I survived.
Sunny has organised with the head ranger for us not to pay camping or entry fees for the park. That isn't formalised yet, and I'm not sure that it's a good idea since it probably also means we won't officially be there, since it all seems a bit unofficial. I'd rather pay the money and support the whole park idea, given a choice.
I ride into the night, since it's not too far to the park and I'd rather sleep there than some random spot. Partly this is out of concern for the trike - if I have to push it tomorrow in the gravel I'd like to have lots of time. Although with only 30km of gravel I should be fine. The only excitement is a road crew at the rail crossing, I see the flashing lights for quite a while before I realise what they are. So I get a bonus 100m of gravel, and also have to wait while a train goes past. I camp 5m outside the park boundary, much to the delight of a herd of cattle who come to investigate.