To save money during my time in Australia, I often ended my days by hopping over the roadside ditch with my mountain bike, searching for a hidden spot to pitch my tent. Usually, there was a fence a few meters in, so I had to find a place somewhere between the ditch and the fence—far enough from the road to stay out of sight.
When darkness fell, I used my headlamp as little as possible. Any light could easily give away my position. This approach saved me a lot of money since I didn’t have to rely on campgrounds as often.
One evening, I climbed over a fence and set up camp about 100 meters into a grazing field. I was tired and had stopped earlier than usual. After two or three hours, a car suddenly approached my tent. Three men stepped out, holding rifles, and aggressively accused me of being a cattle thief. Apparently, livestock theft had been a serious issue in the area.
It took a while before they understood I was just a cyclist from Sweden who had taken some liberties. In a moment of poor judgment, I pointed at my bike bags and joked that there was no way a cow would fit in them. Eventually, the tension eased, and the encounter ended with a surprisingly long and friendly conversation before they drove off.
About a month later, I was once again late setting up camp and too exhausted to properly assess my surroundings. I pitched my tent without realizing there was a small cabin nearby, partially hidden behind some bushes.
When it got completely dark, I noticed lights and heard a drunk man along with his barking dog. I had dozed off earlier and didn’t know if they had been there all along or had just arrived.
The man repeatedly drove his Land Cruiser back and forth along the road. I was lying just by the fence, only about three meters from it. After several passes and some noise around the cabin, I heard him becoming increasingly aggressive toward his dog—likely because it kept alerting him to my presence.
Around midnight, I heard a gunshot.
After that, I never heard the dog again. It had been barking for over an hour, trying to signal that I was there.
While the man continued driving back and forth, I packed all my gear—including my tent—without using my headlamp. There were plenty of mosquitoes, but I didn’t care. I was scared.
I cycled through the night and didn’t dare stop until the sun finally rose over the horizon. Only then did I feel safe enough to set up my tent again. ↟