Posts Tagged ‘station’

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Summertime, And the livin’ is easy

January 9, 2012

If you have to take a shower, you might as well share it.

With 100 frogs.

You never know I figured.

No luck so far. But there’s many more to go.

And I have to admit, I rather be kept company by these little creatures where the most dangerous side-effect might be a salmonella-infection, than this monster.

A Mulga snake, I stumbled across just outside my bedroom door at Byro-Station. Not the friendliest. This King Brown is actually a black snake (just to keep things confusing), and fairly deadly. Lucky Andrew got to him first so no need to worry. It only cost him a pool-cue.

I came up for a visit to the station for new-years and summer. With 40+ degrees and copious amounts of alcohol both a success.

Can’t believe it’s over two years since I came through on my pushbike.

Can’t believe I’m still here now.

In the mean-time Lynne & Andrew got married and had a baby girl.

I got a new bicycle and rode around the country. A lot easier, I’m sure :-)

But my new bicycle has been parked up for a few weeks because I had people to see and places to go. It happens when you stick around one place too long. It (almost) starts feeling like home.

So I better get outta here in a hurry. And I will!

Well, not a major hurry.

But I will!

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Rough Roads and one Rock

September 27, 2011

The road after Mount Dare is a little remote.

Most of Australia is a little remote for that matter.

I like that.

I set off towards Finke and the Geographical centre of Australia.

Where I collected a little bit of sand from the exact middle of the country. That is now sitting in my sisters cupboard in Holland, together with some Himalaya-snow (water now) and Sahara-desert.
(happy b’day sis!)

And parted ways with Frank, who, especialy for me, had driven all the way to Kulgera on the Stuart highway just to get me a fresh salad. I was seriously craving some fresh food after weeks on meat, alcohol, pasta & tuna.

When I noticed a big cloud of dust in my mirror I moved off the track. As usual. Being overtaken by a massive roadtrain on dirt-roads is always fun. It surprised me to see that same roadtrain standing still a km up the track. He’d thought he’d check if I was ok… I was.

The last stretch before hitting the Stuart highway got a little sandy so I was pretty glad to see that roadhouse appear from behind a hill.

To my surprise I spotted a loaded touring-bicycle as well

Choi, from Korea, has been cycling around Australia for the last 17 months. Main reason I didn’t run into him before is he hates dirt-roads with the same passion I hate cycling on highways…

So, even though we had the same destination, we were both going different ways after camping a night together.

He went towards the Lasseter Highway while I moved 19km down the road to turn off onto the Mulga Park road.

Cycling along I came across a station-owner who adviced me to turn around and take the highway because the road would turn to crap. But I’m a little stubborn sometimes…

So kept peddling along. It was a gorgeous dirt-road and I had a tail-wind. So what could go wrong…

I wondered about the melons I saw growing along the sides. They just look so lovely and tasty and fresh. If only they were edible, but I’ve been told a few times by different people I’d better not try.

Not wanting to get ill in a hurry I didn’t. Still they look yum.

After living on pretty boring food on the road for some time everything looks yum, like these steaks walking towards me…

So when I met a couple of policemen who just happened to shoot a cow (’cause it was hit by a car) I was very tempted to cut off a little bit. I didn’t because I didn’t have a chiller room to hang up the meat for it to settle. Next time I’ll pitch my tent next to it until it’s gone. Might have to fight off dingos, eagles and crows if it ever comes to that.

The policemen were great by filling up my water and not fining me for not wearing that helmet…

I had to admit the station-owner wasn’t terribly wrong when he told me the road was going to get a little rough. Usually it’s hard to take advice from people in cars because what’s rough to them (usually corrugation) can be fine on a pushbike… and what’s fine by them (sand) can be very very tough indeed.

All I can do in a situation like that is have a break and make a coffee. Lucky I still had a little cappucino sachet left that a lady had given me days before, including cacoa powder! So a fancy bush-coffee got me through.

It’s a shame I can’t take a picture of the wind. But I can tell you that at one stage it was so strong, a little mouse trying to run across the road was picked up and tumbled along for a while till it got back on it’s feet. There’s been a few mice around. I’ve been lucky enough not to have them chew through my food bags. But some clothes I’ve left outside will have some big holes from now on.

It surprised me how very quiet animals can be. As I cycled out of my campspot at a bore I noticed over my tracks from the previous evening all sort of little tracks, from lizards to dingo’s and even snakes… I had slept like a baby with the only noise waking me the beautiful song of the Major Mitchell’s Cockatoo…

Which sounds a bit like someone scraping a rusty nail on a blackboard…

Just before I got to Mulga Park Station I spotted some movement off to my right. And at about four metres two enormous huge eagles took off. They were about the size of me! (at 3 years old probably) A spectacular sight to see.

Riding onto the driveway I was greeted and invited inside. Dinner was already on the go and there was no reason for me to sleep in my tent because the caravan was perfectly fine to use :-)

In the morning I witnessed loading up the big truck with cattle before heading back down the road.

It had recently been graded so surely it would be an easy day…

No such luck, the 68km back to the main drag took me forever.

I saw this funny looking hill in the distance and was wondering if this might be “The Rock” But after studying my map carefully I decided it couldn’t be, unless it has suddenly moved. It was just “A Rock” Getting closer I found the view of this rock rather spectacular too.

 Later I found out it was Mount Connor.

To get to the ‘Real Rock’ I still had to go another 100km down the road to ‘Yulara”, or “the Ayers Rock Resort”

That’s when I got the phonecall.

It was the morning of the 7th of September and I had just arrived in Yulara, where, for the first time in six weeks I had network on my phone.

It was a phonecall from the Netherlands.

There had been an accident.

They never saw the other car coming…

In one terrible moment both my Grandparents lives had been taken.

So I flew home for the funeral. And made this as a memory for two beautiful people.

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Along The Old Ghan

August 25, 2011

The Old Ghan, originally called the Great Northern Railway, is a tale of the triumphs of pioneering Australians in a landscape of extremes.

Or so the information sign says. It continued by telling me;

The Ghan opened the way into Australia’s remote interior. Unofficially called ‘The Ghan’, it provided isolated residents with a physical and emotional link to civilisation. During World War II the railway was pushed to its limits, yet barely a decade after peace resumed in 1945, it was rejected.

I’ve been cycling along the old railway line since I left Lyndhurst.

Just out of Lyndhurst a car pulled up to ask if I was ‘the Dutch girl‘ after confirming this they handed me a little envelope. An amulet, made by Talc Alf.

Talc Alf had shown me around his place the previous day. He’s discovered the secret of letters and has explained me what my name means.

(it was something about a journey and the sun rolling over hills..)

He must have set out to carve my name in stone straight after I left, it’s now dangling of my handlebar-bag.

When the railway line was first build in 1878 there was need of constant maintenance, so every 15 or 20 km they build a little house where 3 or 4 man would live to look after the tracks. In places the only job they did was shovelling sand off the lines from dawn to dusk and do it all again the next day. Some of these old railway sidings are still standing in various states of decay. They make for a nice shelter from the wind.

It’s been busy on the road.

With ‘busy’ I mean about 20 cars a day. This is because there is water in Lake Eyre.  Having water in a lake might not seem like a very unusual thing to us Europeans… But out here it is a big deal. The last time this lake, wich lays 15 meter below sea level and is with that Australia’s lowest point, was full was way before I was born. From the road I could see Lake Eyre South. It’s huge. Most people would take a flight to be able to see it properly. I asked what it was like, apparently it’s like a big lake with water in it. Didn’t overly surprise me. Still, it’s special.

Because there is so much of not a lot out here every little thing is a sight.

So it happened I came across a pole. Now, this is not a normal pole, it is part of the overland telegraph line, Australia’s first telecommunication  link to the outside world. Between 1872 and 1896 it connected Darwin with Adelaide and ultimately London. Very little remains of the original line, but here is one of the Cypress Pine Poles…

Another famous piece of wood stands just north of Oodnadatta, the Angle Pole is the point where the telegraph line changed direction.

Another time I was rather surprised to see a big thing on the side of the track waving at  me. I waved back and continued along my way.

With so few things around it seems I have become a bit of a sight myself, I might be the most photographed cycling Dutch girl on the track this month. Sometimes I don’t like it when big cars just slow down and take a snap shot without even saying hello, or without even slowing down. Mostly it’s fine when they stop and have a yarn on the side of the road.

I really don’t mind at all when they then offer me water…

Or a tea with blueberry muffins…

Or a cappuccino with chocolate on top and a chocolate…

Or pork chops for lunch…

Or fresh fruit…

Or a cold can of coke…

Or a cold beer and air for my tyres when the pump broke…

Or a feed at the end of the day :-)

It all happens along the Old Ghan.

A funny thing I found is that men often ask about my gear where the ladies ask how I keep my hair looking good :-)

The Old Ghan travelled past the William Creek and Cowards Springs sidings, during the war the stops were reduced from 10 to 2 minutes due to the amount of alcohol consumed on the train… The hotelier complains were ignored. In 1945 the trains were ordered not to stop at all anymore. However, the train would travel very slow, the passengers would jump off the train before the station, sprint up to the pub, buy their drink and run after the train. Lucky I had a little more time to enjoy a beer in the iconic William Creek Hotel.

I didn’t plan to have dinner there as well, but three nice gentlemen from Melbourne invited me to have some kangaroo with them. It sure beats pasta & tuna!

It gave me so much energy that I cycled/pushed 100km the next day, a bit of a feat for me on these roads where my average is around 70km a day.

Barry Tydeman and John Glover’s are scientist who came up between ’69 and ’71 to study the desert Goby, a small endemic fish found only in the waters of the Lake Eyre Basin.

“Then we came up. It was a bit wet and we ended up on the tracks because it was too boggy along the road so we were riding along the sleepers on top. John’s driving and we’re riding -boom boom boom boom, like that. I just had this uneasy feeling and I looked around and there’s this bloody great locomotive right behind us! I don’t know how long he’d been there, hadn’t said a bloody boo you know, and I said to John; ‘I think we better get off the track’. He said; ‘Why?’ I said; “Have a look behind you”. He looked in the mirror and panicked and went down the side… The locomotive came past and slowed right up and he slid the window back and this guy said;”You guys alright?” and we said “Yeah… we’re trying to keep out of the water along the track” He said;”OK, no worries” and boom, boom, boom off they went and that was the Ghan.”

Every now and then I get the idea the universe must like me. Like the day I lost my little camera…

The handle had snapped and looking back through pictures of that day (on my big camera, got two ‘just in case’) I realized it must have happened over 30km ago. The Creek where I was when I discovered was very salty,

So with the amount of water I had going back wasn’t an option…  I kept going. When I stopped a car about an hour later another coming from my direction stopped as well. They had my camera! Two men had found it and given it to them, after snapping a pic of themselves.

So thanks random strangers and thank you universe!

Another example is my 16gig memory card breaking… just after I uploaded (almost) all my pictures!

I would have hated to lose the pics I took only the night before when I pushed my bike to the top of a hill only to be able to see the full moon rising (and setting) over my tent.

A magical night with a 360 degree view of surrounding hills and a crystal clear sky with Dingo’s howling down in the valley…

And a big water tank conveniently located only a km away on the next hill-top…

Thanks again…

Adam & Lynnie Pink Roadhouse in Oodnadatta is, as the name kinda explains, very pink. This is good because I like pink. (my toothbrush is pink, and my towel too)

And so I liked this roadhouse, but that had very little to do with the colour.

More the very friendly welcome I got. A group of 10  travellers who passed me on the road 20 km’s earlier offered me breakfast. (thanks guys!) And I spent the next 4 hours or so charging things, cleaning clothes and myself eating chocolate and drinking coffee. All clean and satisfied I rode out-of-town while a little boy shouted;” Hey! Where’s your man??” …. Now, there’s a question ;-)

The very next day the wind was against me. And believe me, in these parts if the wind decides to be against you, you do not move. A lot.

After a windy night at a windmill I made it 15km up the road to Hamilton Station.

Where a sign told me Junk Mail and Jehovah’s are not welcome. Since it didn’t mention cycling folk I called in and didn’t leave for two days.

I was welcomed by Warren the owner. Together with Josh he was the only one around at this time and the were busy with jobs around the homestead.

He gave me a room in the girls-quarters where I could recharge and clean both my gear and myself. It was an oasis in this barren country side.

Just after climbing on top of a water tank to get a good shot of the station Warren mentioned I could get a bit higher up for a picture. Only seeing flat plains around me I asked where…. He then took me to the shed where he pulled out a small yellow plane… And he flew me over the property :-)

Four of Warrens friend came up for a night on their way cross the Simpson Desert. A good laugh, BBQ and reciting poems later I decided to catch up with these fellows one day later at Dalhousie Springs.

This water comes from the largest Artesian ground water basin in the world (lying underneath 1/5 th of Australia. When it rains up in Queensland the water filters through this basin and comes up in places like here and Coward Springs around  two-million (!!!) years later… But where as Coward Springs had just a little luke-warm bath of about 2square meter, here a huge 37 degrees pool appeared out of nowhere. A great relaxing dip. And when you sit real still the tiny little ‘Dalhousie Goby’ comes and nibbles on your toes.

I did spend the night camping with my four new friends and after jumping in the hot water at sunrise I set of on my tredly while they packed up and got ready to make the Simpson desert crossing.

At my next destination all my carefull planning and timing suddenly got thrown upside down.

But more about that next time.

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Outback Encounters

August 8, 2011

The wind is blowing a gale.

Apparently August is known for it’s forceful winds.

Some one should’ve told me before I decided to cycle long stretches of road through barren desert country… But anyway, I’ve found out.

And sometimes the wind seems to be favorable. Mostly though, not so.

All I can do is struggle on and on and on.

One man recently asked; Do you ever wonder why the hell you’re doing this?

I thought a little and came to the conclusion that I do not. It is what I do and that is it. Wind or no wind. And I love it!

Other interesting words of wisdom I’ve heard include:

“You’re cycling? Ah… that’s just a flash way of walking,

“I didn’t think you would be a vegetarian… you look too strong…”,

 

“For some one, doing trips like that, you seem fairly normal…’”And;

“You are a very strong woman… son.”

Australia is one massive wonderful campsite. And because it’s usually my bike, tent & me, I’ve got a fair few pictures of those subjects. Following some of my favorite camp spots in the past few weeks;

Cycling down towards Eulo several firetrucks came my way and siren-ed me. They weren’t just randomly riding about, the previous night the convenience store burned down.

No doubt very in-convenient for the owner, but also for a group of 120 rally people who just happened to stop off in town, and me.
Rally’s seem to be a popular and fun way to raise money for charities. In this case a Adelaide-based football club was driving up to the Gold Coast in beaten up little old cars on tracks as rough as you can imagine.

It was rather handy that I happened to camp at the same spot and so got to eat with them in the town hall. After a night of fun and games I moved on to the next, and last, town in Queensland.

Stocking up on supplies there I ran into two Dutch-girls one of whom happened to live out this way on a property with her husband, in-laws and three young kids.

If I would like to stay for a night… How can you say no to that? (I did try, but quickly changed my mind..)

Noccundra has a pub and an air strip.
And that’s about all. Some people go there by car, some fly. And at least two that I know about cycled out there.

People often instantly get really generous and friendly when you arrive on a pushbike. And so it happened that my bill was ‘taken care off’ that night in this remote pub.

I got talking to a crew of road workers, they were improving the road I was heading out on. An ongoing job since the road regularly gets destroyed by floods and the like. I was welcome to come and stay for a night… I did, a night around the campfire and a perfectly cooked steak. Yum, such a good change from noodles.

In the morning I was given one of their work-shirts signed by the whole crew :-)

I think it’s been a fantastic idea by who ever came up with it to plant pubs in complete random spots all over this country. Nothing like a cold beer at the end of the day.

Camerons corner is another one of those. Right at the place where NSW, Queensland and South Australia meet, a friendly place with interesting characters…

Right on the border runs the 5.400km long Dog fence, first constructed in the early 1900′s to try and keep dingo’s and wild dogs out of properties. I wasn’t totally sure what side they’re supposed to stay on since I’ve seen a fair few wild dogs (alive and dead) on either side of this fence. Still. An impressive structure.

So now, all that separated me from the Strzelecki-track ( indeed, try pronounce that…) Were 250 sand dunes. Approximately. I have no problem with dunes, I tried to convince people in the pub, who warned me that they’re real steep and real high.

As it turned out I did not have a problem with the incline, or the hight… It is the sand that got me…

I couldn’t even lift my bike with the weight I was carrying now, let alone get it up a steep sandy dune. I screamed like some tennis-playing-girl trying to push through while happy couples in 4WD’s passed me blowing all sand in my face. Some of them asked if I was alright and if I had enough water. Yes, water I did have. About 20liters…. That’s why the bike is so freaking heavy!

I considered off-loading all my gear and carrying it all up the dunes…. Just when I thought I couldn’t get much further Henri, from Bollards station overtook me. We met in the pub the night before and he thought he’d come and check how I’m doing. Since that wasn’t all too excellent we chucked the whole lot on the back of his ute and he helped me across the worst part of road. Very grateful I excepted a couple of beers before moving on and pitching my tent in (yet another) beautiful spot.

While cycling down this empty landscape I crossed the route of Burke, Wills and King. They had set off from Adelaide with camels and horses 151 years ago this month to discover the interior.

Unlike me they didn’t carry maps, followed roads and had a spot-messenger in case of emergency… They tried to get to the golf of Carpentia leaving a camp behind to wait for them for three months. When, after 4,5 months there was still no sign of the three explorers the camp was packed up and it was assumed the men had perished. In the mean time Burke, Wills and King had just missed the Gulf by a couple of days and made it back to camp the exact same day it was packed up. By now they were too weak to catch up, there was a message telling them to ‘dig’ a few supplies were left there for them…  Desperately they tried to get to Mount Hopeless, but couldn’t find it. Can’t blame them, even cycling along the road, with Mount Hopeless marked on my map I still missed it…

Burks & Wills both died not too far from where I am. King was looked after by natives and finally made it back alive.

One frosty morning I got on  my bike and hadn’t cycled 1km yet when a figure appeared on the side of the road.

Here is Neill, and if all those people think I’m mad… Neill is walking! Actually without bicycle or engine. Two legs and one trolley wich he drags behind him. We had a quick yarn at the roadside and wandered about the chance in this big huge country just camping 1km apart…

Neill kept walking and I set off in the opposite direction.

About midday I saw a big red truck appear.

That same truck had stopped the previous day to see if I needed a ride into town.

That I didn’t need, but I wouldn’t mind a cold coke if he had one (I know ALL truck drivers have cold cans of coke in their little fridges, the things you learn huh) So he gave me one and stopped on his way back to give me another. Sweet.

The day I tried to get to Lyndhurst from my last little campsite the wind was so fierce I worried I wasn’t going to make it. So I called in at the first house I’ve seen in the last 4ookm to fill up on water.

It just so happened that Joe and Frog had organized a little party this same evening. So I couldn’t let the chance to sing bush ballads around the camp fire pass me by… I ended up staying so no need to fill up the bottles after all. But sharing of stories and had a shower!

Next day I stuck around to check out an ancient camelyard and have a look around the old shearingsheds. In the old days camel trains moved up and down these tracks to get supplies out to the stations and wool back to the towns.

Now it’s time to keep going,

so this I will do…

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Got Wheels

November 19, 2009

I didn’t get very far after my last update….
About 400km is my guess.

Obviously I should have been well past Perth by now. According to ‘The Plan’.
But I am not and I will tell you why;

After 10 glorious days in domesticated bliss of baking apple pies and shooting cartons I figured it be time to leave Byro station. I had an invitation to come stay at the next station down and an interview for the local paper ‘Bush Voices’.
Sandy was the pilot on the goat muster; he lives at Mount Naryer station and let me stay for a day. He has made it to the cover of the National Geographic in ’88, I’m well impressed.

I’ve been noticing small changes in landscape lately it’s warming up, getting greener. Here and there I still see a glimpse of the famous wildflowers of Western Australia but I’ve missed the main season. With the temperature going up flies are coming out too.
They’re the most annoying little creatures who prefer spending their time crawling into your ears, nose, mouth and behind sunglasses. I’ve finally discovered the use of those fly-nets. Even though they look ridiculous.

Cycling down the road I called in at Billabalong station.
It seemed to me a brilliant spot to grow up, and surely the seven children of the owners must think so too.
I didn’t need to think too long when I was asked to help out a couple of days…
An extra hand was needed to load cattle onto the truck. They weren’t too willing though. One cow in particular did not want to listen and came charging straight at me. I got a bit of a fright and nearly ended up in the water tank…
So we shot the cow. I’m starting to become an expert in taking animals apart.

You might have heard about ‘the school of the air’ before.
In remote areas in Australia children can’t go to school. The distances are just too great. Here, at Billabalong, I got the chance to see how it works up close, I got invited to join the class and have the children, who live hundreds km apart, ask me questions.
In the afternoon we went down to the Murchison River to drift around in tubes while watching the emu’s quench their thirst.

The last night before I struck civilisation I found a lovely bush camp near a dry riverbed, as usual in Australia I only put up the inside of my tent. But around midnight I woke up from this most unusual sound… rain! So quickly I crawled out to fix the outside while huge drops splattered around me. Not just that, it was accompanied with the scariest thunderstorm. Lying in my tent I hoped the lightning wouldn’t strike… I just survived the outback, it be silly to die there.
Lucky the lightning didn’t strike and in the morning I was amazed by the extreme and sudden change. Not more than 10km down the road everything was completely different. No more scrub and bush and kangaroos but lots of rabbits and fields of golden grain weaving in the wind. I’ve hit the wheat belt.

I also hit something else, didn’t figure out what, but after thousands of km on dirt roads I got back onto the Bitumen and had a flat tyre.

As I sat down at a petrol station in Mullewa fixing the leak a car stopped to have a chat. On my way out of town the same car pulled up. Michael and Jai asked if I would mind helping them out for the day. They were shifting tarps around and needed an extra hand.
I ended up working with them for 4 days, earning a little extra cash and learning how to fix tarps, enormous pieces of plastic that cover the grain in bulkheads so it doesn’t get wet. The Tarps must not have any holes in it. So with the 6 of us we’d drag the tarp over a huge light box where you can see the holes and fix them. A bit like fixing bike-tyres… except completely different.

As I got ready to leave Mullewa I noticed my tyre gone flat again. Apparently the glue doesn’t work to well when it’s hot.
I headed to the pub to make a phone call and while I was there figured I might as well have a beer.
That’s when I met Bob & Rob. Two contract harvesters enjoying their time off before the work starts. They invited me down to the farm where they’re gonna be working and I thought; Why not?
4 days later the harvest still hadn’t started and I still hadn’t left…
Since it happened to be Cate’s birthday we danced, drank, sang and played cards. I baked another apple-pie.
While there she showed me the machines they’ll be using ones the work started.
They are Ginormous! Huge tractors, bigger than I’ve ever seen and trailers that can hold 30ton of wheat.
How cool it would be to drive that!

So I asked around and now I’ve got my own chaser bin. Well… I drive one around for the Critch-family just out of Mullewa.
It’s a great big beautiful machine. I spent between 12 to 15 hours a day in my air-conditioned little heaven listening to music, reading books and of course following the harvesters around to offload them before they overflow. When my 30-ton trailer gets full I chuck it in the trucks who take it to the biggest grain collection point in the world in Geraldton.

Only 2 days in the boss, Tony, figured I should have a driver’s licence.
In Australia there’s 6 steps to obtain a full licence.
The 1st one is to do a theory-test. I could skip that one since I’ve had my motorbike licence already.
The 2nd is getting a learners permit which allows you to drive a car with a qualified person.
The 3rd is to actually practise and learn how to drive. I skipped that bit too.
The 4th is a test.
Two days after getting the learners permit I did the test. The assessor was real nice and told me I did almost everything right… Just one minor detail. I couldn’t drive…
She didn’t say it like that, but she didn’t need too…
So I failed but a new test was set for Friday the 13th.
And miraculously, after less than 5 hours practise on real roads and backing up into a tree during the test. I got my driver’s licence!
Now usually after the test you get P-plates. It means you still have to drive under supervision and after another test you ride around with P-plates for two years before getting a full licence. I skipped that bit as well…
So you better stay well clear of West Australian roads for a while…

I’ll be back with more stories about my tractor and the farm since I’ll be staying here untill x-mas.

Next time you here from me I’ll be 30. Ugh.

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