Hann's Range is 15 miles from Connor's Well. Soon after leaving the well dreary open country is met with—nothing to be seen for many miles but spinifex. Bad riding ground; for where there is much spinifex there almost always will be found very loose or sandy soil or ranges. I look longingly for signs of a mulga thicket, as there I knew the ground will be much firmer.
As it approaches Hann's Range the road improves to very good, and once again the mulga scrub shows up. The range is but a very low one, and is soon left behind. After a run of 7 miles, over fair quartz-pebbly track, another well (Ryan's). After Ryan's another fair stretch of 14 miles, leading into a gap known as Prowse's, where it passes through a low hill of granite—Mount Boothby. The sand thence becomes heavier, and so lasts to a watercourse—the Woodforde. Here are camping places—soakages and waterholes—and at one of these (a crossing of the creek) I spend a night.
A very large burr has put in an appearance; and after it come burrs of all sizes and of several different varieties.
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Much of the cycling hereabout is equivalent to cross-country riding. Wherever the ground is soft the loose sand blows in and fills up the two narrow parallel riding spaces which are sole indications of wheeled vehicles having travelled this way at some time long gone by.
Between these clearly defined pads a ridge is formed on which grows spinifex or a tussocky grass; so no choice is left to the cyclist but to sheer off to the side. As spare horses are brought along when once a year supplies are carted up to the telegraph stations on the Transcontinental, the sides for some distance out from the track are very badly cut about. One then perforce must ride as best he may, or walk, through scrub and spinifex and over fallen timber.
From time to time, since leaving Connor's Well, many kangaroos had been seen in the occasional open spaces.
At Ryan's Well, and from there northwards, there grows a small pale-green leaved plant, bearing a ripe and tasty berry, in appearance not unlike the gooseberries of down south gardens. I tested one, and liked its flavour well. Then I experimented with a couple, then four; and as there were no signs of ill effects, I fell upon them tooth and nail. Their taste recalled rock-melons. The more I ate of them the more I relished their peculiar "twang."
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Beyond Hann's Range tracks of naked feet had frequently been observed. Where the ground is hard the cyclist may not heed these footprints much; but in the slowing sand one feels so very powerless to "manœuvre," that, for a little while at least, the sense of being alone is rather agreeable.