There is something unique about the flies out on the bush.  They are nothing like city flies.  City flies are street smart.  They only hunt in small packs and have reflexes so fast I guess they are used to humans reaching for the can of fly spray.

Bush flies are a different kettle of fish. Firstly they gather in huge swarms and for some strange reason want to try to get up your nose, in your ear or crash on to your left eyeball. The more you swat them away the neighbouring flies take this as a sign to come on over and join in with the others.  Unlike their city counter folk they don't respond very quick to the swat. This means you have a good chance of killing 20 in one hit, however there is another 529 ready to replace them.  The only respite is one of those strange black mesh nets to put over your hat.  While it may make you look like a bee keeper they atleast keep you sane during the heat of the day.

I have also wondered what the flies that manage to hitch a ride in the car think after their long journey.  Have they unknowingly left home giving their young maggots a kiss goodbye for the day only to end up 200 km away in a strange place?  Or maybe they are the ones hitch hiking their way back?

Speaking of 200km, today we made our way further along the Oodnadatta Track.  First stop was Algebuckima, the longest bridge in South Australia (approx 600m) on the Old Ghan line. Its other claim to fame is the car at the base of the bridge.  The story goes that some one decided to take a shortcut and drive over the bridge only to be met by the train coming the other way.  The driver bailed into the river just as the train hit, dragging the crumpled wreck to the end where it still remains.

There were more stops along the way at several other delapidated sidings including Warrina until we arrived at Oodnadatta.  Driving through town it is hard to miss the brightly painted flamingo pink road house - another quirky feature of the Australian outback.  

Another flat tyre.  Luckily this time it was not me but a fellow traveller.  We pulled over to help as they were having trouble with their jack (sounds familiar!).  If only they had a block of wood to raise it more?  James to the rescue!  But we did have our own 'little adventure'.  Looking for a place to stop for lunch I sighted this pleasant little creek line.  Stopping to check, the sand looked a little soft.  The conversation went something like this

James: what do you think Jay it looks a bit soft?

And so with that we turned up the river bed and found a spot to stop.  After lunch and time to leave....... Or so I thought.  What do you do when you have this strange sensation of your engine going and wheels spinning but you are not going anywhere?  Now this was just an excuse for Jay to use his winch so out with the toy and after a few tries we were back on the road. Remember Graeme - no going up soft river beds by ourselves!

Leaving the Oodnadatta Track we then headed into more remote country (if this could exist) to make our way to camp at Pedirka Ruins.  After travelling for approx 15 km over rolling sand dunes that felt like you were on a never ending roller coaster, the topography changed dramatically to open flat expanse of nothing. Well nothing except rocks.  Now these are no ordinary rocks.  These are the gibber plains which means miles and miles of fist sized smooth rocks that not only cover the landscape but also the whole road.  This also means that much of your journey is at a crawl as the car shudders and shakes as they rumble over the gibbers.