Well, the rain started today. Only light misting rain, almost just saturated air, until mid afternoon. After that it got to a light drizzle but a lot more rain had fallen ahead of me from Docker River for the next 9 km to where I camped.

The road improved out of Warakurna with less corrugations.

Also, the road runs next to a mountain range. At one stage I thought that this looked familiar and sure enough, a sign explained that this was an area that Albert Namatjira often painted. Riding through was like walking through a gallery of his paintings – white barked gums, blue-red hills, sandy streams.

It was around here that I picked up a beautiful, near new pair of fencing pliers that someone had dropped apparently while changing a tyre. Threw those in the bag even though they are heavy and weight is the touring cyclists hate.

The road turned from a properly formed Macadam gravel road in Western Australia to, immediately on crossing the Northern Territory border, a channel graded into the red sand. Corrugated with drifts of loose sand.

The approach to the town is spectacular! The last few kms into Docker River (Kaltukatjara) from the junction of the old Gunbarrel Highway to the town is between the Petermann and Bloods Ranges. There is a great tourism opportunity here; guided walks in the ranges with option of overnight camping, aboriginal foods and culture.

The official campground 5 kms west of Docker River is basically a plain of desert oaks (Casuarina) with very basic toilets and soft dirt roads. Not appealing. And I needed water so I rode on.

There had been a lot of rain over Docker River so the road was only just rideable. There was no roadhouse so I had to go in to Docker River township to get water even though a passing Landcruiser with big caravan had, wide-eyed, warned that the place was a wrecked car strewn rubbish tip overrun by feral dogs. Anyway, needs must so in I rode.

The shop was shut so I sort of wandered around wondering where to get water. A passing aborginal greeted me, asked me what I was doing and then gate-crashed a nearby house to ask if I could get water. The occupants stopped poking a small fire in their carport and said ‘yes’ and pointed to a polished brass garden tap at the corner of their house (I got the impression that inside the house is very private for family only, the garden is for guests and parties and the street is for the uninvited public). Anyway, I filled up with water while the house owner showed minimal interest and left.

While riding out of town everyone I passed said a friendly ‘hello, what are you doing on your bike?’. Overall, my impression of Docker River was positive, the rubbish and wrecked cars are more an indicator of a social system that just doesn’t rate that sort of thing as important rather than a sign of neglect as such.

Out of town on the firm detour around the new 10 km of bitumen road bypass in the last stages of construction. Friendly as Docker River was I would be more comfortable and feel more secure being away from it after dark. Got 9 km up the track where the good road ended at the gravel pit supplying construction of the bypass. Pulled in behind the gravel pit and pitched the tent in the failing light.