We'd come all that way.

 

We'd come all that way without any damage to our van, or to Larry's ute, or for that matter to Matt's if you don't count the alternator dying the minute we arrived at Seisia, but it's a Toyota and a certain amount of unreliability is both expected and acceptable.  Remember: "You can get parts for Toyota's anywhere." 

The nice man from the RACQ did indeed carry a stock of spares - "I get them in lot's of twenty" he explained, implying that this wasn't the first Toyota alternator (or starter motor) that he'd replaced, but once again I digress.

We'd come all this way, seen the legends in their MadMax trucks with dented bits and parts missing and the looks of triumph on their collective countenances, and wondered what we'd been missing.  It would be a shame, we thought, not to see what the fuss was about.

It wasn't hard to find the old Telegraph track either, the signs were all around us, but not the kind that bolt to the end of posts.  Instead of arrows or breadcrumbs or a neatly coloured roll of string marking the way, there was a trail of car bits that was really quite easy to follow.  There were no warnings either as we neared the more technically difficult sections of the track, but the density of broken, bent and discarded parts increased to give a pretty clear idea that madness was not far away.

Like many others whom we deemed "sensible" we found a vantage point and settled in to watch other people having their own version of fun.