Outside either end of the tiny town of Glendambo, South Australia, is a sign that includes population figures for people, animals, and then some millions of flies. I’m ashamed to say that we’ve been through this town twice now, spending the night the first, and we didn’t manage to get a photo of this sign. I did manage to take some great long-exposure night shots though:
Anyway, back to the flies… they weren’t kidding. Growing up in Australia, I’d never really had too much of a problem with flies - they’re annoying, sure, but you get used to them. Central Australia breeds a completely different type of fly. They’re vicious, climbing into your nose if you stand still for even a second.
On the trip back through, we stopped for fuel again and Duncan looked around, noticing we’d parked in the same exact spot as the day before, and asked quizzically “Where’s Poppy?” It was a little bit heart-breaking, that he didn’t understand the concept of adults having to leave to work. Before he knew it we were off again, making the last part of our precarious trek across mobile-service-barren lands in a van that could seemingly die at any minute, before returning to the waiting bosom of civilization.