My morning routine got a bit brighter thanks to Craig, the kind guy I met yesterday. He’d gifted me a bottle of chilled water the night before, and now he stopped by to say goodbye. By a little after 5:00 a.m., I was back on the road. To Australia Moura.
Yesterday’s gravel ride was making its presence felt. My legs felt like lead, and my bike seemed heavier than ever, as if the wheels were dragging. I knew I had to push hard early in the day while the temperatures were still bearable. Not a single cloud in the sky, and the sun wasted no time—it was already baking from the start. Little did I know what lay ahead.
A Mining Morning
By 9:00 a.m., I reached the mining town of Moura. Around here, everything revolves around the mines—you can tell by the sheer number of road trains thundering down the highways. These massive trucks are so imposing that every time one passes, I feel vulnerable, like an ant on my bike.
In Moura’s park, where free camping is allowed for up to 72 hours, mining pride is on full display. There’s even a giant excavator bucket sitting there—so massive that my bike, Mayo, looks like a toy inside it. Just like on the roads, where I disappear beside those rumbling road trains.
I grabbed a bite to eat, stretched out on a bench for a nap, and by 11:00 a.m., I set off again. The second half of the day was about to get brutal.
The Sun and the Defect
The sun was relentless. After an hour, I began scanning for any bit of shade—somewhere to refill my water and escape the heat. But there was nothing. No trees, no rest stops, no escape from the searing sun directly overhead.
The forecast had said 35°C in the shade. I’m convinced they got it wrong—out here, it felt much, much hotter. On the black asphalt, it was as if I were riding on a scorching grill. Even my feet were burning inside my cycling shoes. Walking across hot coals lasts a few seconds—this felt endless. My bike tires softened under the heat, and sure enough, I got a flat.
A flat tire always happens at the worst possible moment. Overheated and stranded with the sun blazing down, I switched into survival mode. Every movement was calculated to conserve energy.
Cars stopped frequently to ask if I needed help. Each time, I waved them off with the same explanation—there was nothing they could do for me. But even these short conversations sapped my energy and extended my time on the molten pavement. By the time I fixed the tire, I was completely drained.
On the Edge
The final 25 kilometers to Theodore felt endless. If there had been even a sliver of shade along the way, I wouldn’t have hesitated to stop and wait until sunset. I could feel I was on the edge—my body was giving out, and my mind started spiraling.
When I finally reached Theodore, the campground appeared mercifully at the edge of town. Even so, I struggled to push another 400 meters to get to a bench and a suitable spot for my tent. Dark thoughts ran through my head as I realized how close I’d come to collapsing.
I dropped onto the concrete bench, barely able to move. I drank, and drank, and slept. In total, I had consumed 12 liters of water throughout the day, sweating out every last drop. Thankfully, Theodore had running potable water. I drank even more, and eventually, my body began functioning again—I could finally go to the bathroom for the first time all day.
A funny story from this morning. I wanted to volunteer to help run the camp because it provided everything I needed. So I dropped $1 in their piggy bank and hot water started flowing out of the shower behind me. I hadn’t realized it wasn’t running yesterday. I only take cold showers here. 😁
Recovery and Rest
Everything became an effort. With what little energy I had left, I set up my tent and limited myself to the bare essentials. My mind was made up: there was no way I could continue tomorrow. I needed a full day of rest to recover.
This entry comes a day late. I only felt well enough to write it the next morning, when the sky was mercifully overcast and the sun had disappeared behind clouds.
Queensland Australia: Moura. Some days push you to your absolute limit. Yesterday, I hit mine.
