If yesterday’s traffic was light, today we have the road virtually to ourselves. And the arid plain stetching as far as the eye can see is just as empty. Not even a sheep. Nothing. Therefore when get to the only settlement on today’s route, which happens to be at lunch time, we are not expecting much. At the first café we stop by, not much of a place to be honest, they don’t have enough provisions to feed as big a group as ours, but they direct us to another spot down the road (one of about three in the whole town).
There, past a green gate at the bottom of a courtyard, awaits us a cosy little tea shop out of a British novel, with colorful little tables, home-made cakes and a needle club. Our tractors, parked along the curb, cause quite a stir. Even in Victoria West, the tiny town where we spend the night, our arrival doesn’t go unnoticed. Not much goes on in the former railway depot long past its heyday. You can bet they’ll be talking about us for a long time.