* * * *
At the Horseshoe Bend depôt I purchased a water-bag (and a good one it was—lasted me all the way through) and a small billy-can, which served my purposes until I reached Alice Springs.
So far the sparse, low scrub on the sand flats and rises was chiefly acacia, of many varieties, while clumps of mulga marked the firmer soil. Spinifex (not of such coarse growth. I fancy, as what in other places is known as "porcupine") was everywhere. The track through the sand gets so badly cut up that when walking one keeps well in to where a thin crust may be left, and finds oneself steering a very erratic course. Beyond the Bend we reach the first desert oak—a very good shade tree, with from 10 to 15 feet of straight stem. The wood is very hard and heavy; one can hardly drive a nail into it.
At Oodnadatta we left the regularly fenced country. Apparently one may here take up for grazing purposes a hundred acres, and use a hundred thousand.
No sheep beyond Oodnadatta either. Beef and goat's flesh is the vogue. The goat's flesh is called "mutton."
* * * *
To Depot Well, 15 miles from Horseshoe Bend; no riding—heavy sandhills. Stopped at a camel camp. Fifteen miles is not much of a distance certainly; but on a hot day (as all days up in this part appear to be) to not lead, but get behind and push, the bicycle through, with the surety of more to-morrow, and for days to come—Diamond and I agreed that it was a "fair thing."
These drift sand-hills—red, loose, and sometimes very steep indeed—make travelling, no matter how one may creep, very wearisome and laborious. When you have struggled to the summit of one of them you take a view of the surroundings. As far as the eye can see (and, alas! very much further) an unbroken stretch of the same formation. You wade ankle deep on descending; and when pushing a bicycle up you have to "tack," planting each foot sideways in the sand to get the necessary grip. I was glad I had provided myself with boots instead of shoes.
Broom-brush, spinifex, and desert oaks (these at long intervals) alone break the burdensome monotony.