Day 4 continued

Heading out from William creek, the roads may have been dirt track but they were well packed and we were able to make good time on them. Visibility was brilliant, with the whole road laid out before you and oncoming vehicles and turns clearly visible for miles before you encountered them. However, much like buses where you wait for ages for one and 3 turn up together, so it was with the road trains and we drove up behind one just as one approached from the other direction. At various stages the road had 2 clearly driven 'lanes', however at this point we were down to 1. The oncoming road train slowed to a halt for us to both get through, and with a long clear straight ahead I took my chances with overtaking the one going in the same direction. Now before we'd set out on this journey, road trains had been talked about a lot. About how you'd see them from miles away looming up behind you and the best way to deal with them was to pull over. I don't know what road trains this statement could be true about, certainly none of the ones we've seen so far. Road trains are lumbering slow moving lorries, that stay in my rearview mirror barely long enough for me to curse at. They wobble all over the road and are by no means fast enough to loom up behind me. Overtaking one, especially on dirt track where it is almost single file can be a challenging task. The plume of dust they kick up means once you commit, you go in blind, holding a line and a memory of the road layout and the feedback from the wagon as she wrestles with the unsmoothed bumps and unpacked sand piles. Coming out the other side is a proper yeehaa moment, the bucking of the wagon settling back to the gentle rock as the packed road once again comes under the wheels. It's an amazing achievement, and allows us to continue with a sensible but faster safe than had we been stick behind the road train for many kilometers. I wonder what words of encouragement the driver would be passing out if we had a cb radio.

At the end of the dirt track we reach Coober Pedy, a mostly underground mining town, full of opal mines. First thing when we arrived was to fill up with petrol, and it was at this point I discovered what had been giggling at me all day... I didn't have my wallet. I hadn't needed it all day as Doug had paid for petrol this morning and only when it was my turn did I discover it kissing. A quick search of the car and my belongings and then Doug had to pay for the petrol. Where could it have got to?

We'd hoped to be here for a late lunch, but it was 5pm and so we just spent some time exploring some of the attractions. A quick visit to the information centre and we were armed with a list of places we could visit. starting off with a town lookout, and the big winch (a massive hand winch monument which seemed to have no real purpose) followed by a visit to N underground church. Now its not common for me to visit churches, but we were intrigued by the idea of everything being underground and wanted to see how/why. The why was quickly answered as we went in, there was no air-conditioning or fans and yet it was so nice and cool, just rock holding out the heat. The how was explained with some photos, showing how the mine hole had been abandoned and all people did was to dig it out further. We wandered around, even going down to the lower caves where the children's litergy cave was. Right in the middle of where the children would be entertained during the boring parts of mass was a mine shaft, leading straight and true to the skies. Clearly any wayward kids who didn't follow the group down the stairs in a timely manner would be dropped in from above with a thump. On our way out, we got chatting to a bloke walking around, who explained the differences in texture on the walls as being due to the different stages of digging. The original roof level had one texture, and the increased roof level had a different texture. He then invited us to walk around the motel next door to see some of the methods used in making it livable. As we wandered the quiet, almost abandoned motel it seemed remarkable to think people here lived under all this rock all year round. The motel rooms were just square caves dressed up nicely but unmistakably caves. On the wall were more photo stories of how different equipment was used to dig out the small caves and holes to make rooms, and how they raised the roof and how they'd discovered the miners stash of empty beer bottles at the bottom of a shaft. It was such a fascinating place, that all of the time we had left to visit was used up here.

The other advantage here was that there was limited network phone signal, so we were able to get a message to Maria on my UK phone, advising we were still alive and well.

Originally we'd hoped to follow some more of the oodnadata track in and through the painted desert. Instead, so that we didn't lose too much time we followed the highway down with the intention of getting to our campsite the shorter way. As we drove down, we spotted one of the sights we'd been warned about. A car at the side of the road, bonnet popped and 3 aboriginal blokes waving us down. No chance of that we carried on. Discussing it as we continued, both Doug and I come up with different scenarios which would have had more luck getting us to pullover and help (guaranteed). A) 3 gorgeous blondes, B) a 4wd similar to us, clearly in trouble. 3 aboriginal guys in what could be a perfectly good car but with its bonnet up was not enough to sway us.

The distances displayed in coober pedy, the distances shown on the map, and the actual distances we drove were all very different however, and so as the sun was setting we pulled into a campsite on the edge of the highway, just next to the oodnadata track turnout, still 40minutes from our planned campsite. Cadney Park homestead had showers, a pool table and best of all served food so our digestive system didn't have to suffer through my terrible campstove cooking. As soon as my swag was unrolled, the mystery of the missing wallet was solved, the first I saw of it was a small white piece of plastic, closely followed by my wallet with my bank card hanging limply out of it, missing a corner. After a shower and a freshen up, we headed in for dinner, and a chance to see if the card would still work or if Doug would be bank rolling the rest of the trip. The guy behind the bar was very friendly, and gave the card a go - as he swipped it through, there was a cacophony of beeps from the machine. There was no way the card would work, and an atm would just munching it up for dinner. My only option was to flutter my eyes and ask nicely for him to put it through manually. It's a pain for them because they have to type in 16 digits, but it proved I'd still be able to use the card until I could get a replacement. Obviously, I couldn't get a card sent to Melbourne as I wouldn't be back there. Despite the money worries we had a pleasant evening, and made the most of the vast knowledge pool around - all the truckers were sat having their light beers and dinner and so we got them to point out curtain springs on the map (having epicly failed to spot it) and got an estimate of how long it would take to drive there. Armed with this knowledge, we worked out we had enough time to visit the painted desert still and still make our planned stop for the night. Happy with this turnout we hit the sack, 1 bottle of wine down and 4-1 victorious on the pool table. It had been another long day.