Neither of us fancied using the unisex shower block with its, rather too public, cubicles. So we made do with a change of undies and quick dab with the anti-bacterial wipes that I had bought as a precaution against swine flu. Needless to say, the restaurant was closed on Sunday, so we would have to look elsewhere for breakfast. But we had more immediate problems. John went off in search of jump leads while I brewed up some coffee and began to “strike” camp.
Once the Triumph was started, we didn’t dare stop for anything until the battery had had a chance to recharge. Luckily, the first convenient breakfast stop was 50km down the road at the Buckinghorse Ranch, and we had enough fuel to get there. The café only had 3 or four large tables and, unsurprisingly, was doing a roaring trade. The lone gas pump was out of service, but there was another service station across the dusty road.
Refreshed and refuelled, we rode on.
To be honest, there was not much of note. Fort Nelson was not much more than a blob on the highway. We pulled off again for fuel and a milkshake at A&W: again, being Sunday, it was practically all that was open.
100km or so on, the road became more scenic, weaving through mountains with stunning views over forestry and lakes until we arrived at Toad River, our overnight stop.
We had intended to camp again, but since it there was a little rain in the air, we were glad to find that they had a cabin still available. It felt good to be warm and dry, so we did our best to ignore a distinctly stale smell wafting in from the basin waste pipe in the bathroom. We unpacked, showered, and wandered back over to the café for a burger.