The CrossingNundroo Roadhouse
Life On the Road
A 53.5-kilometre day to Nundroo was held together by all the unglamorous bits: cold clothes before dawn, crew-made breakfast, checkpoint cuppas, foot care, laundry and rubbish.
The days had a routine by this point. That sounds tidy. It wasn’t. It was cold clothes, tired bodies, simple food, cuppas, foot checks, alarms, laundry, rubbish bags, sweeping the campervan floor and three people trying to make a ridiculous thing repeatable.
The morning began with a sign in the dark: Nundroo 52 kilometres. I was in high vis, the torch was out and the compression gear was cold. The first job was to get moving before my brain had time to object.
I usually woke between 4 and 4.30 and started pulling on cold clothes. Ben or Ols would make porridge, toast, bread or Ryvita with peanut butter or Nutella, plus black coffee. At 5am I’d step onto the Eyre Highway and they would go back to bed.
My first session was often about 15 kilometres. The boys set alarms, drove forward and met me around 8. I sat down, they checked my hydration pack, made tea or coffee and asked whether I wanted food.
Then came the feet. I checked them, applied balm or Nurofen gel, waited a few minutes and went out for another 10 kilometres. The next session might be 5, then lunch, followed by something like 12, 8 and 5. Ben or Ols made dinner too.
While I walked, they handled food, water, laundry, bed linen, rubbish, cleaning, supplies and timing. My feet did the obvious work, but HAA depended on all three of us.
There was still room for nonsense. I posted three photos of Ols with the explanation that he wasn’t a runner. His training strategy, according to him, was:
“I’m saving myself for parkrun.”
Ben was worried Ols might still record a better half-marathon time.
One of my sessions from the previous day had also put me on a Strava segment leaderboard with James Brooman, Run Geordie Run, and Running Raw Vegan. In the middle of nowhere, other people’s ridiculous routes made mine feel less lonely.
By early evening, Nundroo was five kilometres away. One parkrun. That was a number my tired brain could understand.
I reached Nundroo Roadhouse after 53.5 kilometres, with the total now beyond 1,900. I was tired, fed and very glad Ben and Ols had made dinner.
Videos From The Day
Cold morning toward Nundroo
An early-morning clip from the push toward Nundroo, with winter making itself very obvious.
Open on YouTubeRoadside toward Nundroo
A short roadside glimpse from the way toward Nundroo.
Open on YouTubeBen on the verge
Ben moving along the verge as the support-crew rhythm played out.
Open on YouTubeImages From The Day
