As we swung out of Esperance and headed for the centre of Australia it became increasingly clear that we were plowing towards the great unknown. Petrol finally hit $1.00 a litre and then kept on climbing, and a complete and utter absence of hills took over the landscape. We had planned a relatively big day of driving, but we failed to consider than during the day we’d cross two timezones and end up losing an hour and a half of time in which petrol stations would be open. So, as we pulled up at Cocklebiddy and discovered it was closed a hasty decision making meet was called over quite possibly the most expensive fries ever purchased ($5 a box). We had a 20 litre jerry can, and after consultation with the people behind the counter, the next 24 hours petrol station was a further 200km up the road.

Pros of this plan: Cocklebiddy was a hole, getting 200km away would be a good thing. Cons: It was late at night, we were driving over perhaps the most isolated major highway in the world and the car sitting next to us in the car park had a hole the size of a large kangaroo in its windscreen. Simple decision then, right? So out came the Jerry can and on we drove – with all four people in the car glued to the windows on roo spotting duty, the settled into a comfortable speed of 70km/h and with a 1000 tonne roadtrain sitting 100m behind us we braved the nullabor at night.

It’s funny, kangaroos seem to only acquire the “lets jump in front of cars” suicide gene between about 5:30 and 7pm, anytime before and after then, and they’re pretty much content to just sit there and gaze at you from the side of the road. Anyway – driving 200km at 70 takes a fair while and by the time we pulled into Mundrabilla roadhouse it was late. Never mind, it’s a 24 hour roadhouse. Except the lights aren’t on. And the doors are locked. And the sign says closed.

Fuck.

We have about 60ks of fuel left in the tank and a helpful trucker assures us that the 24 hour petrol station at Eucla is great. It is 66km to Eucla. It is now after midnight. I’m sure if the history of decision making was drawn up and a top twenty decision making moments was compiled – we’d fit in somewhere among the top ten. After a short vote it was decided we’d push on. Looks like the stupid gene runs strong in this group.

Posted in Travel on Saturday July 6, 2002.

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