The breaking dawn brought a misty sun over low scrub and red ochre sand hills, that rich red orange almost terracotta on steroids, with small trees scattered across the landscape. There wasn't much that was too high. With the sunrise shots taken and no one nearby to chat with, a move back to the cabin and a visit to the Rain Room seemed like a good idea. There wasn't much to see, those things would have to be done eventually and the future was an unknown quantity.
I'd emerged and dressed for breakfast, and was in catch up mode on the field notes while Madam showered when my trusty slim HBSP pen decided to give up the ghost. Fortunately I had a spare, but a brief grapple with the alternative wasn't entirely satisfactory, so I headed off in search of a substitute, investing $2 on an Indian Pacific el cheapo that wasn't much chop. Any subsequent decline in reportage can be attributed to the change.
Poor workmen, their tools and all that…
Madam emerged, dressed, and expressed a desire for further rest so I set off with pen and notebook thinking that there'd be space in the Club Car and I'd be able to continue composing without seeming too unsociable. After all there'd been no one in evidence a mere ten to fifteen minutes before.
It's remarkable how quickly things change.
I arrived to find all available seating occupied except for a stool near the bar, and it was obvious that solitary scribbling was setting the scrivener apart from the rest of the population. I gave up and looked around to discover that the mist had closed in and turned into fog, not quite your pea-souper, but enough to prompt the hospitality manager to remark that it was something she hadn't experienced on this leg of the journey before.
Up to this point we'd been sitting in the cabin till the meal call came over, but it seemed like gathering in the Club Car was the standard modus operandi so I wandered back to the cabin to suggest that Madam might care to join the throng. She did, but the joining lasted all of ninety seconds before the chime came and we were off to be seated for breakfast.
There isn't much room for variation in the cooked breakfast department and I went for the standard option, choosing poached rather than scrambled, eggs to go with the bacon, chipolata, mushroom and tomato. We were in the middle of ordering when the fog lifted, as if by magic, and we found ourselves gazing at the awesome extent of the Nullarbor in all its glory.