19-20 June 2026 – 33 kms – Kinchega National Park to Menindee Caravan Park
Barkindji Country
I’m sitting, lizard-like, in a plastic chair facing the sun. My butt is on the edge of the seat and my head is reclining on the top of the chair back. I’m sitting on one of the concrete footpaths out of the strong and cold westerly wind that has pushed out the warmth of the past few days.
I hear a vehicle pull up. I raise my head. Out pop Gerard and Malcolm, two Barkindji rangers. One is very tall and thin and the other one a bit rounder. Gerard is the lead and Malcom is his silent side-kick. They are very surprised to see me. They didn’t know I was here. They ask when I got here. I tell them Wednesday and that I’m booked to leave Sunday.
They tell me the roads are closed and the gate is locked, but if I want out, to just let them know and they’ll unlock the gates. I tell them I’m on a pushbike, so I can likely just go under or around the gate.
“You’re on a pushbike”?
Yes, I reply. I ask if the whole road is boggy or it is just bits. They say the whole thing is boggy. They can chuck my bike in the back of their ute if I want and get me out. I ask if they think the roads will dry by Sunday. They are unsure, but there will be another ranger around on Sunday I can ring if I need help. They give me the number to call. They tell me I’m welcome to use the wood (you are meant to bring your own) and build a fire in the lounge fireplace if I like. They ensure I have all the building codes. And then they head off.
I return to sunning myself, lizard-like. The day had started sunny and very windy but quite cool. There is a washer in the amenities block that is free to use. The clotheslines out the back have pegs. And I had a packet of detergent left from the little box I got out of the vending machine in Mildura. So I’ve made myself at home and I’ve got laundry over there flapping in the wind. Consequently, I’m in laundry day attire – naked underneath my rain coat and rain pants.
About 1.5 hours later, still in my laid-back position on the chair, an older couple comes around the building and starts firing questions at me. I want to say, “hey, calm down, you’re harshing my vibe, dudes!”
They are in an uptight frenzy, almost panic. I confirm I’m not with National Parks, but the rangers are around. The couple have already knocked on the door at the depot and then come up here. I tell them I saw them just a bit ago and the gates are locked apparently.
Well, this is just awful to them. The couple are pissed off. They HAVE to be let out. They can’t be stuck here. They were camping down along the river and were stuck there in the mud all day yesterday. They couldn’t even drive out to come over here for a shower. They’ve had enough of the mud, and based on their bickering, they’ve had enough of each other after being cooped up all day yesterday. And now they don’t know how to contact the rangers since they can’t phone them.
I tell them there is a phone in the museum area, or they can use mine. I have a Telstra SIM and have coverage here. There are contact numbers listed by the phone in the museum/office. They didn’t realise there was coverage. So the woman goes to get her much-desired shower and the guy goes off to call someone. Sheesh, they are very demanding when it was their decision to camp along the river with rain coming!
While they are both still in the showers, the rangers return. The uptight guy called the office in Broken Hill and they’ve called the rangers. They ask if I’ve seen a panicked couple. I say they are in the showers and want out of the park. The rangers tell me that there is more rain coming this afternoon and ask if I’m still good to stay. I tell them I noted those clouds building and the change in forecast, but I will be fine, thanks. Gerard says, “Yep, that’s cool – but just call if you need us.”
The couple emerge from the showers and the rangers reassure them that they can get out. They’ve just dummy-locked the gate. And then they all leave and my peace and quiet returns.
I have been looking at those building clouds and have noted that the forecast for today has gone from 0-1mm of rain to 0-3mm. Tomorrow’s forecast which had no rain originally is now 1-3mm. There are also lots of little rain speckles on the radar coming up from the southwest. Damn.
I let the laundry dry until 2pm. Then I decide I need to get out today. Based on how well the ground has dried and firmed up around the buildings, I figure I can probably make it out. I don’t like the idea of all the roads getting re-bogged with more rain.
So I pack up everything at 2pm, find a good mud-clearing stick to remove mud from the frame and tyres, change into my shorts, put my shoes on without socks so they don’t get mud-covered and then we head out on the 18 kms to the park entrance.
The 30-45kph wind is mostly a crosswind, but sometimes blowing straight at us as the road curves.
The road is rideable, just don’t ride over anything that is shiny or glistening in the sun. That’s still wet! The sandy bits are just like riding on a wet beach – slow, but not tyre-sucking. It’s all okay and I’m not going to need the mud-clearing sticks. The hard clay base just rides soft and tacky. And in most places, I just follow the tyre tracks even though there hasn’t been enough traffic for them to be really tamped down and solid. I can go around the bigger bogholes. So, all in all, it is just slow and soft.
Sometimes something will catch a tyre a slow you down suddenly, but I like this new challenge – learning to read wet sand and clay and the slightly different bike handling skills required. I’m always trying to learn or improve those skills and learn to read a better line on the road. This isn’t the high-speed, mountainous gravel downhills and finding the right apex, but it’s bike handling skills nonetheless.
The wind whips through the blue bush, and where the road has dried and the sand is loose, it weaves down the road in high speed currents of grit. It blasts my legs as it goes by.
You can see the horizon to 360 degrees here and can see all the individual clouds in the distance dropping rain. Luckily, we are in a sunny spot, but I’m certain I’ve made the right decision to leave while I can.
There are a gazillion western gray and red kangaroos out there in the distance. There are lots of small mobs bounding through the bushes and I imagine it would look really cool to see all of those darting lines of roos from above if you had a drone. They are hard to spot, but you can pick out the white chests of the red kangaroos when they stand up to have a look around, and the white of the tails when they all start to move.
We cruise into town at 30kph with the wind at our back once we hit chipseal. I could stay at the motel again but I don’t want to fork out that cash. I don’t want to stay at the pub on a weekend night. So we’ll do the 5kms out to the caravan park. I buy and refill water, check the radar to see if any of those clouds are moving this way, and then head out north, fighting the crosswind the whole way.
There are clouds in the distance in every direction laying down rain. There is one to the west that I think is going to get me. And it does.
The downpour catches me, and my shorts and shoes get soaked quickly. I’d already put on my rain jacket, but my head gets soaked through the helmet and the water runs down my neck onto my shirt. Thank goodness I’d gone sockless for the mud. The panniers and fork bags get wet, too, but much more so on the left side from which the rain comes slanting in. It rains hard on me for the final 2 kms to the caravan park. The feels-like temp is only 6.3C when I look later, so it is not a pleasant soaking!
I leave my shoes at the door to the office but still leave my distinctive, high-arch footprints on the floor. The caravan park lady feels sorry for me and tries to figure out where she can put me out of the weather. She offers me ‘a shack’, but that says mould and pests to me. She doesn’t think a tent will fit in the camp kitchen (I could have fit 15 of my tents in there – it’s a huge roller door shed!). So she says, just go wherever you like that you think will keep you driest, even if it’s a powered site.
When I emerge from the office, the rain has moved on. I pick what I think is the least boggy unpowered site (I’m actually straddling a couple sites, but it’s not busy) and get the tent set up in that powerful wind. The good thing about the wind, though, is that it is drying my shorts off while I set everything up.
It doesn’t rain again in the evening. The area is famous for sunsets, but it’s nothing special. Still, all of the caravan people emerge from their metal enclosures at the appropriate time with their cameras ready. Then they all go back inside again afterwards.
I’m very, very cold. I can’t stop shivering. So I put on my dry off-bike shirt, my two thermal layers and my puffer jacket. I put on my fleecy pants and warm wool socks. I pull out the mylar blanket, wrap that around me and then get in the sleeping bag. I put my winter hat on over my wet hair. I zip the bag all the way up and curl into a ball. And shiver and shiver. It is a good two hours before I finally feel warm again. I don’t think people take me seriously when I say I have trouble regulating my body temperature after the mozzie virus. I wish they could see me at times like this.
Later, after dark, a bogan couple with a camper trailer come and camp just below me. Of course they have to have a campfire and watch the footy on their phones. They are Hawthorn supporters. The rest of the caravan park is very quiet, even the weird dude living there who has lava lamps on poles surrounding his caravan and who had been singing the wrong lyrics to songs earlier.
So of course the loud people have to be next to me. At one point I yell out, “Shut up!”. The toned down cheering lasts for about 10 minutes before it gets louder again. So, a bit later, I yell out louder, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”. And that gets them to lower their voices for good – not shut up – but quieter. Luckily, they lose their internet connection a few times and Hawthorn appears to not do so well later in the game, as it seems there is much less to cheer about as the night goes on.
On Saturday, it rains off and on until about noon. I go up to the camp kitchen which is a huge shed with a fireplace in the middle, about 6 big metal picnic tables, some camp chairs, a TV, sinks and various cooking apparatus. I call the national parks booking number and it is surprisingly easy to get my two unused nights of accommodation refunded.
After the rain has passed, I ride into town to go to the pub for lunch and to buy more water (the water at the caravan park is not potable). I want to be well-fueled for tomorrow’s ride. Unfortunately, the serves are small and the food very average. They are friendly enough, but I wouldn’t recommend the place for a good feed. Pooncarie wins hands down for a pub feed.
In the afternoon, I talk to a guy who is a weed expert who explains all the plants he’s seen down on the lakeshore. He has stopped by to ensure I know not to ride my bike down there because it’s full of three-corner jack thorns.
I also talk to another couple doing that “Darling River Run” – they are waiting for the roads to reopen. They really don’t sell me on that route! They are on their way to QLD for the winter and trying ‘something adventurous’. Never mind that it’s a very well-trod path with tons of tourist promotion and station stays or pubs every 60-some kms.
I check all the bolts on the bike, I clean the chain, I pump up the tyres. It’s a pretty decent ride ahead of us to Broken Hill tomorrow. We’ll have a 20-25kph quartering headwind, so it’s off to bed early for me and the guys!
I learn a little something from many of your posts. Today I learned to be prepared with mud clearing sticks when traveling on dirt roads in rainy conditions. I sure could have used some tar clearing sticks a few years ago when I accidentally rode on a freshly paved shoulder in New York.
Somehow, loud partiers near my campsites have never kept me awake. I’m a pretty sound sleeper–at least until my bladder wakes me up in the middle of the night and needs emptying.
Ooh, tar seems like it would be pretty impossible to pry off. I’ve had to use sticks to get mud out to create clearance before. I also knew there would be no sticks along the way, hence the preparedness.
I always sleep better in my tent than I do a bed. But as a solo female traveller, I’m sure I don’t sleep the sleep of the dead like you would. I just get pissed off when people have no respect for others and don’t ‘read the room’. The entire caravan park was silent after 8pm – so you’d think they’d get the clue that maybe they should be quiet, also, or at least camp further away – it wasn’t busy, there were tons of other places they could have camped. I’m certain everyone else thanked me in their heads when I told them to shut up the second time – I know I’ve been thankful in other campgrounds when other people went and told the people to shut up.