Sunset, sunrise

I seem to have been keeping a close check on the sun's movements lately, there at the coming up and the going down most days. Last night we were out at Simpsons Gap - more ancient orange rock, 800 million years old this time - for a campfire dinner cooked by Bob Taylor, who's related to Craig.

No fire-singed roo tail this time though: bush dukkah, garlic damper with homemade soup, bite-sized morsels of succulent roo fillet, hotpot stew, yummy sweet potato fritters - and then steamed puds, made from scratch (actually chocolate, macadamia, apricot and wattle seed). All very yum, eaten by the campfire with an almost full moon overhead.

Bob's one of the Stolen Generation, though he doesn't like that term, removed from his family at 8 and sent to Adelaide till he was 17. He had a struggle with it, but has come through to be a successful tour operator, well-travelled, non-resentful and very interesting and entertaining to talk to.

This morning we were in Kim's hands, floating over scrub and spinifex as the sun rose and brightened the colours on our hot-air balloon. It was a close-run thing whether we got up, and a bit exciting coming back down to earth, which was with more than a couple of violent bumps, but it was a great way to start the day. And the champers after helped things along too.