I work till afternoon, which feels kinda interesting – chatting to colleagues and committing code whilst sitting in a tent in the middle of nowhere. However, I do need to find some gas to have my hot meals, after all. Which is why after 12 (Western time) I take off and visit a few more roadhouses... with the same disappointing result. No gas bottles anywhere at all! Dammit. At least I don't get nearly as many of those locusts that bothered me on my way here, although there's still more than a few to fly around.

In the morning, as soon as I wake up, I grab my camera and venture out in hope of some more excellent photos. Perhaps, there's still a few more of those amazing clouds that I witnessed yesterday? And there sure is. A wonderful sunrise greets me as I look for all kinds of compositions here and there, and even some poor animal's skull nearby finds its place in my image collection.

It is time for me to leave the Eyre Peninsula now and travel further west. On my way along the western coast of the Eyre I stop by a peculiar place called Murphy's Haystacks. Situated on a private property, which allows you access for an honesty box donation, there's a small collection of giant boulders, eroded into very intricate shapes by all kinds of elements. They look very bizarre amongst the scorched yellow grass and slowly undulating rural plains.

Sleeping amongst the dunes turned out to be a lousy idea. It's quite chilly, and the moisture gets condensed on the inner walls of the tent; with each gust of the cold wind the tent shakes, and the water drips on my face. Once again I wake up before dawn and spend the rest of the night sitting in the car and shaking in cold. No more camping next to the sea!

I went to sleep quite early yesterday, so I wake up at 4 a.m., no less. After having my breakfast (instant noodles) I decide, for the lack of anything else to do, to pack up my camp, but the decision proves to be wrong. Too dark yet, and too cold, and the light of the torch attracts too many moths. Humans weren't meant to be nocturnal, after all. It's not very pleasant to realize that in the darkness that surrounds you there can be anything at all, and that all your observable Universe is limited by the circle of the pale light from your torch.

This night was bitterly cold: 5°C, according to the Prado's thermometer. The mink blanket certainly helped. I drink my hot morning tea and watch the thick morning fog swirling slowly all around me.