Into Norseman: Closing the Chapter of the Nullarbor

Daily miles: 29.02 | Total miles:8,898.74

My alarm rang at 4am. It was still dark but warm after a dry night. I snoozed for ten minutes, stretching and savoring those small but crucial moments before movement. Coffee first, then I stepped outside—the stars still shining brightly in the dark blue sky. Headlamp on, buggy packed, sunscreen applied, and by 5:05am I was back on the highway. A perfect start. A perfect day to ease back into running without pushing too hard.

I felt deeply happy already when I started, smiling for much of the day. The road stretched out with gentle hills, some walking, some running, and a deep sense of ease about how I made my way through the Nullarbor. Injuries, a stubborn cold, fatigue—so many obstacles tried to hold me back. And yet, I adapted, adjusted, and kept moving. Things rarely go exactly as planned, but the lessons from the detours are often the richest.

Around mile 20, a van waited ahead. A man jumped out, crossed the road, and handed me a bottle of water. “Crazy!” he said with a grin. His name was Andrew, and before I could fully take in his kindness, he told me he would pay for my room at the Norseman pub. I was speechless—thank you, mate. Not long after, I met Silvester from the Netherlands, cycling across Australia. Encounters like these lift me up.

The last miles were lined with wildflowers—pink, yellow, white—sprinkled across the landscape and growing denser as I neared Norseman. I stopped at the town sign, reflecting on the emotions I carried across the Nullarbor: resilience, exhaustion, joy, and pride. After more than 1,000 km without a grocery store, I headed straight for the fridge inside the shop, cracked open a soda, and felt alive again.

The pub welcomed me warmly, with Jakeb at the counter and new friends Andy and Michael stopping in for a chat. I skipped the beer and enjoyed another cold soda before heading upstairs. The shower felt glorious, though the sweat still poured out as I wrote these words. Dinner was simple: bread, cheese, hummus, salad, yogurt. Tomorrow, the road to Perth begins—another chapter waiting to unfold.

Looking back, the two toughest parts of the Nullarbor were the wind and the flies. The wind teaches you not to fight—resistance only risks injury. And the flies, relentless and maddening, demand sheer endurance. Sunglasses, earplugs, and blowing out of the mouth—it all helps, but in the end, you simply endure. And that’s the point. It’s not unbearable. It’s almost unbearable. That “almost” is where resilience is forged.

Onward. Thanks, Andrea