Charters Towers to Mt. Garnet

Once upon a time, about eight days ago, three bicycle tourists headed north from Charters Towers into the Queensland bush. They each suffered their own form of fatigue, related in some way to long days on the road in kind of rough conditions.  This being the case, and with water sources every 100k, they broke the next sections into reasonable chunks.  42ks here.  75ks. A 43. One 64. A 40. 47. 58. 66. 

They saw many beautiful things during these days:

Blonde winter paddock grasses

Massive four-legged creatures with floppy ears and broad nostrils   

Red winged parrots and puffy white clouds

 They hauled extra liters of water into their bush camping spots for idyllic showers in the afternoon sun.  They chatted with farmers whose land they stayed on. They laughed heartily along with the calls of crows and antics of apostle birds and sulfur crested cockatoos.  

Their moods went up...into peaks of delirious sillies where they practiced their Australian accents, or played cow patty war.

And their moods went down...retreating to the safety of their tents for entire afternoons. One cried tears for home. Another, perhaps the same one,  had an internal tantrum when her tent tried to blow away during setup, again. Another didn't say anything for what felt like an entire day. 

But even when their muscles said, "please! No more!". Even when their rest spots got filled with dust from a parade of turning road trains. Even when the trees offered fake shadow from the blazing sun and the clouds fake rain, to cool their sweaty skin, they carried on. 

Because, you see, there was one catch. Between where they left and where they were going and the eight days in between, there was only one town: Greenvale. 150 people. "Big town!" They'd heard one traveler say. "BIG! With a big shop, oh yeah, plenty of food."  They weren't sure where he'd been traveling or for how long, but they were sure any food that was there would be expensive. 

In Charters Towers, they had arrived at the BIG shop (truly), one hour before it closed for the evening through the next day, Sunday.  In a bit of a frenzy, they bought food for the next day's rest and the four after that prior to Greenvale.  At the time, they'd cursed going into the shop with empty bellies.  Ravenously filling their carts with noodles and cookies, discount yoghurts, veggies, and kiwis.   And again, two days later, when one's panniers barely shut and things were bungee chored to every available space, she joked, "I think I accidentally bought enough food for the whole eight days!"

But accident... not!  Because that one big shop in Greenvale? That town where they had a gas BBQ at the park, and a swimming pool that was disastrously closed in "Winter." Where they hadn't seen a drop of water in months," yet watered one tree and the street for hours and cleaned the "caniveau" out with a power  hose operated by a man in high work boots and short shorts. Well, that one food shop in this town had boxes of cereal  for $8 and canned corn for $3. The vegetables and bread were due in Monday. And it was Thursday so...

they left with a dozen eggs. 

"I think we have just enough (to get to Mt. Garnet, the next town" ) the two said. 

"Oh, I should have plenty," the third said.  "it'll be a lot of couscous and honey, pasta, and quinoa for the last two days, but I have enough."

Yes, the cookies were all eaten , save for five, carefully and painstakenly , for the final days ride.  The carrots and apples long gone. They fried an egg on the last of their bread on the free BBQ and then continued on into the bush. Honeyed couscous is tasty, problem being it does not last long in ones belly.

They were hungry and dreaming of a real shop with real cookies.  Green vegetables.  Flavorful things.  All wishing they'd been able to hide a hidden treat in some pannier, Some crevice. 

And so, this is where the story truly begins.

The three cyclists sat at the covered picnic area of 40 mile scrub national park.  The sun had gone fishing in big pools of grey and hadn't been seen in a whole two days!  They were cold and still hungry and even found little dead worms floating in their tea water.  Discouraged and down, at least one of them started to slunk around. 

A cruel one joked, "must be time for dessert!"  

The slunked one cast up her heavy eyes for a moment then settled them back to the ground.  She knew she had no dessert.  

"Kelsey," one said, "we actually did hide something to have for just now."

She bolted upright. "What?  Really?! How!!  What is it?"

"Yeah, it's in the bag on the bike still..."

"Which pocket?" She skipped to their long red bike. 

"The main one, you won't miss it."

And behold:

"WHAT!!!"

She couldn't even lift it out of the pack she was hunched over in such laughter.  

"WHAT? BUT HOW?? And WHEN??"

"Charters Towers," they said together. 

"From Charters Towers?  But this thing weighs ten kilos. How??"

She couldn't believe it.  These two, careful of every penny spent. 

"But how did you fit it in?"

They both shrugged.  Seven days! 350 k's!

"But how??!"

She might never have felt so delighted and spirit-uplifted as she did in that moment.  They needed an axe, but had only a knife so:

And the inside:

"Oh no! It's no good!" They all cried. 

"It's not even close to ripe.  How could they sell this in the store? You should take it back."

"Yeah...okay..." Said the carver in his well used sarcastic tone. 

"But really, how could they sell this?"  

And then...

Well, we didn't exactly buy it at the store..."

"What? Where did you get it?"

"And we didn't exactly get it in Charters Towers..."

"Oh? You two...."

"More precisely we found it ten kilometers ago on the side of the road.  Among a pile of others."

Silly! Gullible! American!

But still!

And as half or one quarter or 75% of stories tend to have; this story has a happy ending too. 

They rode through gusts of wind and grey, 66k!

To the bustling town of mt. Garnet with its supa IGA!

And here they were able fill up and round out their bellies with their favorite foods they like to buy. 

_________

Or alternate ending: for you really should not write the end of a true story before its actually been lived. 

They rode through gusts of wind and grey, 66k!

Even encountering a downpour along the way. 

And Mt. Garnet? That town was lacking any sort of IGA. In fact the little town store was closed for the Queen's Birthday!  

"Mt. Garnet is a failure," was all one French lady had to say. 

But all was not lost for there was one newsstand open!  And Nutella and cookies and a bag of pasta were obtained. Plus free camping. And the next town, well, it had a real store!