And too late I was into it – way too slow, in the wrong gear and not correctly positioned on the bike.  The result was inevitable.  I used the whole width of the track to fight my way through three giant tank slappers before ending face down in the dust.
 

After setting up camp, George removed the gear
from the Tanami and stood it up

It was hot.

Overwhelmingly, and suffocatingly hot.  I was breathing short, shallow and sharp.  Quite apart from everything else, I wasn’t feeling very well.  I reached over and turned off the engine before I dragged myself out from underneath the bike.  George arrived and helped me up.

The grating of bone on bone when I placed my weight on my left leg gave me a fairly good indication that it was broken.  I hopped and George dragged me to some shade at the side of the track, where I nearly fainted.  I had a pressing desire to remove my helmet and jacket – I was sooo hot!

The feeling of light-headedness and imminent fainting gradually passed and I was able to take stock of the situation.  George had returned (from where I knew not).  We decided that it would not be wise to push on.  In fact, it would be a good idea to camp right here!  I crawled and hopped to a clearing in the spinifex.  I lay down puffing and groaning.  George retrieved my camping gear from the bike where it lay in the middle of the track.

I opened the first aid kit.  Panadol, while good for a headache, seemed woefully inadequate for a broken leg.  The anaesthetic qualities of Johnny Walker were tested that night.
 

The reason for the crash is all too obvious
 

Our style of travel meant that we couldn’t carry more than a good “taste”.  It was now that I discovered one aspect of growing older that I had hitherto not considered to be an advantage – a reduced capacity to handle alcohol or, conversely, a greater effect for a smaller amount.

 We had a sufficiency to dull the pain and make light of the situation.

George had erected pyramids of bush wood to warn approaching motorists of the Tanami laying on the track.  Some time later he retrieved the bike after a Herculean effort, making the warnings redundant.

The topic of conversation for the evening was rather incongruous given the setting and the circumstances – the art of good bookkeeping (and George’s proven theory of same).  The noise of rutting cattle in the near distance rounded out an unforgettable night!