Up early the next morning and on the road as the sun struggles, weary-eyed over the horizon to starts it’s day. Last night had been cold and going out in the middle of the night to “water the grass” had been a struggle!

Breakfast, as has become the norm now, was cereal with a squeeze of condensed milk and a mixture of milk powder and protein powder dissolved in water.

This keeps me peddling for hours.

Leaving my campsite, I quickly come across a mob of sheep being driven down the road. Seeing me, the sheep head through an open gate into a large paddock filled with a mature grain crop ready for harvest. I hope this change of plan was not my fault and as for the language from the farmer following the sheep; well there were a few new profanities leaned that day!

For the next hour, I shared the road with ball bearing like sheep shite! Bugger, no mudguards and I have to be careful of flying sheepshit from the front tyre. My next bike will definitely have mudguards!

The road to Cobram remains mostly flat and I stop at the nearest deli for lunch.

Emerging to eat my lunch in the sun, I discover that I have my first flat tyre. Cobram had presented a conundrum.

Not only have I a puncture to fix, but I had broken the rear pannier mounting bolt again about 10 kilometres earlier and needed a permanent solution. I was getting tired of fixing it with the old faithfuls of pipe clamps and fencing wire.

Finding Cobram Bolt Supply was a real joy.

They drilled out the broken bolt and fitted a new “aircraft quality” high tensile one for $5. That price even included a spare bolt for “next time”.

On this ride I was to find, time and time again, that country folk really are the salt of the earth.

While in Cobram, I also purchased a new tyre. At some point I know I will be glad of it.

Much of the day was spent on the Murray Valley Highway, one eye on the road in front and two on the rear mirror looking for grey nomads with no idea of how wide their 4×4 and training mobile home really are.

No, it’s not a mistake, you really are going to need three eyes if you are going to cycle the MVH!

Today’s downside, the road gave lots of opportunity to take short side trips to the river and unfortunately I took one to many.

Flying down a rain gouged dirt track, I landed in a pothole the size of a WW1 trench and although I emerged unscathed, the rear wheel was hardly turning and was emitting a loud scraping sound. This was not going to be good and my glass-half-full attitude was surely going to take a beating.

And it wasn’t and it did.

This time I had broken two mounting bolts on the rear pannier with one of them the “aircraft quality” bolt fitted earlier that day.

My advice to you – DON’T FLY!

Those bolts may be all that is keeping the wings on!

Unloading everything on the side of the track and fixing the mounts with wire and clamps yet again, I vow to the chorusing kookaburra that I will stay on the tarmac from now on.

No more dirt-road adventures until I am home again.

My adventurous spirit has well and truly “bolted”.

Pun definitely intended.

Today had been tough and I am glad to finally reach Nathalia and the local caravan park.