Explore "A Backblocker's Pleasure Trip" by Edward S. Sorenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When you are shut up at night in a rocking, rolling, rattling coach, packed for hour after hour in the form of a zigzag, even the heavy sandhill can be a welcome variation to the tedium of travel. On coming to one or the latter the horses pulled up of their own accord, and the driver peremptorily ordered all hands to get out. We got out and walked, and now and again we shoved and spoked the wheels, and otherwise worked our passage over the bars. We paid £6 each for this privilege.
We didn't mind walking over the sand. It was better to have it underfoot than to meet it whirling through the atmosphere in dense clouds. The scenery was like the weather--monotonous; and these little breaks were a relief. We did not grumble either when the coachdriver got lost at night, and we had to do some exploring with lamps and matches. It might delay us a few minutes, or a few hours--what matter? We were quite animated when we took our seats again. We exhibited scratches and bruises as proof that we found trees and other vegetation without the assistance of a guide; and we related how we discovered numerous small gullies, without injury and without breaking or losing the coach lamp.