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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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Not The End

May 21, 2011

I rolled into the small country town of Braidswood on a glorious afternoon. It’s worth mentioning this since the weather has been everything but great my last few weeks in Australia.
My newfound surrogate-parents,  Robert and Joan, had mentioned the rodeo in town this weekend and the cattle-sales.
I have not seen a cattle sale-yard before (I saw the sheep-sale yards…) so went to have a look.
Many men with hats. This was good since I like ehm… hats. Not at all did I feel out of place dressed in lycra leggings and my work-shirt…

When I arrived at the rodeo-ground the preparations were in full swing. So I parked my bike between farm-ute’s and horse-floats, put on my hat ;-) and helped setting up.
Yeehaa!

 

The sun kept it up the whole weekend…

.But, naturally, as soon as I set off on my bike it started to drizzle. Via my newfound ‘mum & dad’ I got some contacts on the way out. So I stopped off at a farm where I was spoiled and filled up with steak, beer, pancakes and ice cream. I keep telling myself ‘I’ll cycle it off’… I’ve got a whole lot more cycling to do…

I set off along the Nerriga road. Mainly because on the map I’ve seen places named; “Duran Dura”, “Wog Wog” and “Tomboy”.
A dirt-road, with a little more traffic then I expected. Some serious ups and downs and the pub in Nerriga.

In the pub in Nerriga a man took one look at my bike and told me I couldn’t cycle up the next hill. I find this an unusual statement. Just because he couldn’t do it doesn’t mean I can’t… So I cycled up the hill. And called in at the chestnut-farm at the top where I stayed a day picking chestnuts , drinking beer and watching a man and his bird…what else to do on a rainy day?

Cycling along I saw a honey-place. I like honey so stopped and had a coffee. While the bees where buzzing about, doing what bees do I had a chat to the owner. He came to the conclusion I needed energy and stamina, so he gave me three little packs of super-honey. Bee power. And a bright yellow cap. I cycled real fast after that. And uphill too!

So fast that before I knew it evening started falling and I hadn’t reached Hill End yet (that is the name of the town at the end of the hill). When I stopped to take a photo of a cute cottage.


a car pulled up, the lady lived in that cottage and migrated from Uruguay to Australia with her husband 23 years ago. Now they are restoring the cottage and having a South-American-style BBQ. If I’d like to join :-)

.

So without much trouble I reached the old mining town of Hill End the next morning. Once the largest NSW inland city with 52 pubs because of a massive amount of gold in the ground. Now it’s merely a ghost town with a nice little shop where few people mentioned the road I intended to take was closed. After some more inquieries I found out there had been a landslide and cars couldn’t get past. Motorbikes could, I was told in the pub. So, logically, a pushbike could too.

I assumed that because of this the ‘Bridle-Track’, as it is known, would be quiet and traffic-free.
I was wrong.
I chose a holiday weekend to ride through the most popular camping spot in a 500km radius (well, so it seemed) Every spot at the river was jam-packed with 4WD’s, tents, kids on cross motors and men with chainsaws (just for firewood… I hope)

.
Just before the landslide area I ran into Terry. Terry build a house in the valley and was just gathering leaves to burn that evening. I joined him for a cuppa and the fire. And by gathering our supplies we managed to cook a nice meal that evening.

Back into the real world and onto real roads with real traffic I decided to stay a night in the masively un-appealing town of Bathurst (note; on a nice day in a good mood it probably is a lovely place…)
Where I was allowed to pitch my tent at the sport-grounds. This same evening a engagement-party was held at the sport-grounds. With no chance of an early night I joined the party :-)


I cycled up and up and wondered why everything felt a lot harder then I thought it should. Surely one bad night sleep wouldn’t do this to me? The answer came a little later as I said good bye to a young family who’d invited me for lunch; “Don’t you need some air in your tyres?” He shouted as I rode off… ahhh, that explains a lot. Oops.

I do like this part of Australia eventhough at times it seems a little hectic. Like when I came across the Blue Mountains back to Sydney. It was the end of a bank holiday weekend. The lack of shoulders and some sharp little climbs made it slightly hazardous. Maybe the fact I don’t like traffic noice so I cover it with my music and the ungoing drizzle didn’t help… could’ve all together made for an unpleasant experience. A massive traffic jam snaked itself all the way up the mountains. So I happily cycled past the lot, all the while thinking that eventhough it has been said many many times… Surely I’m not the mad one…
Even I sometimes doubt it, like when I had to return 4 times to a massive viewing platform before I could finally see ‘the three sister’ through the mist. I’ve got three sisters myself and can tell you, they look nothing like it.

I had the pleasure to be hosted by Leigh I met a long time ago (well, feb last year) when I stayed at a big motorbike-gathering. A very keen cyclist. He showed me around Sydney on my last visit and now he took me to some beautiful viewpoints and Katoomba. I have to take his word for the beauty of the place because all I saw was clouds… He did accompany me down the mountain on a lovely downhill ride.

Now my time in Australia has come to an end. Or, to be more correct, my visa has come to an end.
The thing is, I’m not done…

So-this is not “THE END.”

:-)

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Highlands and Snowy Mountains (-snow +rain)

April 8, 2011

I have made a discovery!

Australia has got hills.

And not tiny little ones like we do at home. Not big massive ones like in Nepal either.

But real ones… you could almost call them mountains, with Kosciuszko at 2228m the highest on the mainland. I cycled to the top. For no particular reason except that I could.

I set off from Wayne’s and his Mum’s place in Melbourne with a bag full of maps, not only had Wayne given me very detailed maps of the Dividing Ranges and the Snowy Mountains. He also gave me a severe warning about the road conditions. But do you think I listened…? (thanks anyway Wayne!)

But before I started riding my friend Rhett came down on a camping-trip and we set up camp at the beautiful Mitchell River National Park where that evening we noticed our fire was magic, the campfire that is. It also seemed to attract some interest from local wildlife we discovered as the possums flocked in to try to climb in my panniers,up the wine-cask and nearly in my camera…

I do like wildlife when it isn’t flat on the road. Then they stink…

So staring at Wayne’s maps, I saw a track named ‘Tom Groggin Track’ it looked good on the map. ’4WD-only’ it said. Now, as I discovered in Australia they exaggerate it a little at times. The only time ”4WD-only’ actually means ’4WD-only’ is in sand-dunes (I found out the hard way north of Perth) for the rest of the time it means; “4WD-only, and-bicycles-are-fine-too,-but-stay-away-with-cars-and-trucks-because-girls-on-bikes-don’t-like-you“

So you imagine my surprise when this track turned out to be fairly difficult. It was beautiful! But steep. Often people warn me a road is going to be steep, and usually it turns out to be just fine. I had to push my bike a bit. And often I could take only about 10 steps before having to catch my breath.

Pushing over the last steep bit of that 9-km track that took me 5 hours I was so knackered I just about collapsed onto the main-track. But I’ve spotted a hut on the map Wayne had given me and it seemed the perfect spot to camp the night. It got a bit confusing with the amount of roads going all through the hills. They’re made by the logging-crews. Lucky I only took a wrong turn one’s and it was good because one km down the track the loggers had a camp where I could fill up my water bottles and even got some cans of tuna. :-)

The hut was excellent. A bit off the track next to a small creek, a big fire-place and nice flat ground for my tent… You don’t think I actually stay in the hut… They’re full of spiders! Eehlw…

Going down the steep track the next day proved a little easier than pushing up. Still needed to get off my bike in places, sliding down with my hands firmly on the brakes.

 

One more hurdle before I hit the bitumen again. The Murray river. Normally a fairly easy crossing, but with the amount of rain lately the water came up to my tights. But after going up and down about 5 times I got everything across dry and pitched my tent on the banks, where that evening I got a whole lot of curious kangaroos visiting my camp… But when I sneaked up on them to take some pics I was surprised when instead of jumping away because I’m big and scary they all hopped towards me, which reversed the big and scary-role a bit and made me jump in my tent in a hurry. I’m such a hero…

I thought the worse was behind me when I hit the bitumen at Tom Groggin Station. Until I realised the road was climbing one km in altitude within the next 15 km. Not that it was a problem, by now I’ve got legs of steel. It was just rather slow…

And the higher I climbed the colder it got. This too shouldn’t surprise me… But by the time I made it to ‘Dead Horse Gap’ I was glad to see the roofs of Thredbo down the road in the distance. I rolled down and decided to treat myself to a hot soup before making the descent into Jindabyne.

That did not happen.

As I stopped at a cafe in town I realised that I was too late to get a soup but just in time to get a glass of wine. A group of about 8 friends were enjoying an extended sunday-lunch. And on discovering that today was my 4-year-0n-this-bike-trip-anniversary I was offered (more) wine, a warm bed in 4 star hotel and taken out for dinner!

 

Obviously the dinner extended into a big night out (more wine) and when Monday morning came around I was in no state to leave my luxury apartment… It didn’t help that somewhere along the way I picked up a stomach-bug wich made me run to the toilet every 10 minutes or so. How lucky I had a toilet and wasn’t somewhere on the side of the road in my tent!

When I finally did feel ready to go I managed to get to Jindabyne and up around towards Kosciuszko. The mountain is only a ski-lift ride up and 8km walk from Thredbo, or 90km around if you take the long (but not as steep) road.

I spend the night on the mountain in Seaman’s hut. A hut build in memory of a guy called ‘Seaman’ who’d died on the mountain in 1928. There were also 4 young snowboarders who disappeared on this mountain in 1998. Their pictures are on the walls in the hut. And at night, with the wind howling and the hut shaking I had the feeling that I wasn’t there by myself…

In the morning, before the rangers came up, I rode my bicycle to the summit of this highest mountain… A bit of a anti-climax as the wind and the rain just wouldn’t bugger off. So no view for me. But I got the picture :-)

(I did go back up a few days later just to go and see the view… And take this picture)

I rode down the ski-slopes back to Thredbo where a bunch of hard-core down-hill mountainbike-boys were so impressed with my efforts that they handed me a bottle of beer on arrival. It was 8.30am.

I met up with Jane, a lady who was working at a ABC-project in which she has to portray strangers. She’d heard about me and figured I’m strange enough so she made this

Not just that, she also invited me back home where her upstairs neighbours Michelle and Heinz invited us for a true and proper dinner party! And, when I left she set me up with her mum who lives a few towns down the road :-) Thanks for all that Jane! 

After all the beer, wine and food I felt it might be time to get some cycling done. But lately the weather has gone funny. I still firmly believe Australia is supposed to be hot and dry. But it’s been trying hard to prove me otherwise. People keep telling me this is the first year after a 10-year drought it’s raining again. Great. Excellent timing.

 

So off there I went again, the weather seemed lovely as I said goodbye to Jane’s mum in Cooma… But heading into the hills again the clouds rolled in and it got rather wet. Lucky I picked up a super-sized raincoat somewhere along the way. Not that there was much wrong with the bin-bags I used in Tassie, but a raincoat does the job as well.

I camped, cycled over hills (again no views) and made noodles in the rain. Fun!

Till I hit a place called ‘Ballababallabala’, or something similar.

I ran into Robert there, who kindly sent me to see his wife Joan. They live in a house up a hill with one of the steepest drive-ways I’ve cycled up so far. So Joan opened the door to a huffing & puffing cold and wet girl and didn’t had a clue what was going on. But invited me in anyway.

I could tell they’re big into there horse-sports by a cabinet chock-a-block of awards. And when she showed me her daughter’s room I could use there were a million ribbons on the wall!

I heard her mention a rodeo in town coming weekend!

So there’s a plan.

To be continued…

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About the Birds and the Bike (and some other things I like)

January 11, 2011

 Ever heard of the Malleefowl?

I didn’t before working in one of their habitats… It’s great seeing these funny little birds run about, never realizing they are actually real special. This native Australian bird is an endangered species with only small populations surviving. They’re real shy and a bit silly. They happened to set up camp not far from ours, so I had the privilege of spotting them on a number of occasions. They’re distantly related to chickens. But chickens are not very rare…

After six months of sitting on my ass in a fancy air-conditioned 4WD it didn’t come as much of a shock that it wasn’t very easy to get back on my bike.Peter accompanied me on the first stretch out of Port Lincoln.

The road followed the coast but due to heavy rains in December the harvest is running late and the road is full of big grain trucks going a million miles an hour blasting you off the bituman every time they pass.

Lucky I found a lovely little dirt-track going away from the main-drag nearer to the coast. At times it followed the road closely, and I did get a few strange looks heaving the bike through ditches and sand while being only meters from the bituman. But I like the efford that takes a lot better then joining the rest of the road-pizza’s. And I ‘discovered’ some beautifull campspots along the way. A bit windy at times, and with one pole still missing my tent flaps around like crazy.

One reason I was going into Adelaide was my passport expiring. When I set off on this trip I never guessed I’d still be going 4 years later, and not even halfway ’round the world yet…

Another reason was finding a replacement for that missing pole, turns out the distributor for this brand is in WA… Where I just spend over a year! Darn.

 I spent Christmas in Adelaide with Linda, a good friend of my dads cousin, And Steve, a good friend of mine. It was here I discovered I might’ve grown out of the lactose-intolarance I picked up in Nepal when an overly friendly parasite set up residence in my stomach. But just to be sure I tried eating cheese, cream, ice-cream, chocolate and yoghurt. And I didn’t feel ill! I had another huge piece of pavlova & cream to celebrate. I did feel ill then, but I don’t think it was because of the lactose…

Christmas is a funny happening here in Australia, no one seems to care that the seasons are all wrong! They put up decorations with big santa’s in costumes and beards and plastic sledges and snowman even though the temperature is 40+ degrees! It still seems a little strange to me.

We all went to see an exibition called ‘desert lands’ in the National museum… It made me want to get back on the road. So I got back on the road.

 I found my way to Kapunda, where Chris lives. He kept me entertained for a few days. Not only with copious amounts of Coopers pale ale, but also with his hilarious stories of past exploits in different fields of work From Milkman to Bartender to Gigolo and, lately, running Aboriginal communities all over Australia (we met when I cycled into one of those back in 2009)

He gave me a tour of the Barossa valley which ended in a wine-tasting session (It tasted great!) and a unusual history lesson. I never knew the first settlers in the Barossa-valley liked to spend their sunday-afternoons playing hunting-games. They were awarded different point for different kills, a rabbit would give you 5 points, a fox 10, a Kangaroo or Emu 50 and an Aboriginal 100. The last one disappeared around 1895…

New Years eve is a fairly tame event in Kapunda. So I decided to make my own party and Hijacked the jukebox in the local pub and under the suprised and slightly baffled looks of locals dragged Chris into my own version of dancing the night away (I want to ride my bicycle/ on the road again & Dolly… just a few examples)

After midnight there seemed nothing else to do but to join a crowd of young lads to a house party where we spent the rest of the night playing ping pong and watching curious cooking-shows.

Happy new Year.

On the map I’ve seen a road going straight across the ’Big Desert Wilderness Park’ Since I seem to have missed out on the Great-Central road (only for now! There will always be another winter…) I took this track, a sign at the start warned me for a ‘rough sandy road’  That sounded good to me, for sure I wouldn’t meet any trucks along here.

The only vehicle I did meet was a big 4WD who flew past me later that day while shouting out the window: “How ya going!”…. typical Aussie greeting, he wouldn’t have expected an answer. If I would’ve had the chance I’d let him know that, obviously, in the sand… uphill, and against the wind I was going very very slowly. But he sped past and left me in a thick cloud of dust.

It was wonderfull though! No sounds but the gravel under my wheels, the singing of birds and dogs howling in the distance. Oh, and locusts.

Just when I was getting used to the flies in the west here these grass-hoppers seem to prevail. Instead of crawling in your eyes, ears, and nose as flies like to do. The locust smacks BANG into your face and hops away again. I was wondering if they might make for a tasty snack… Full of protein.

On my map I’d seen a little blue dot named ‘The Springs’. Silly enough I figured there’d be water there so I made it my goal for the day. I got there and searched high and low, but no sign of any spring at all! Nah.

Lucky I jumped into a puddle 13km earlier at the ‘Big Billy Bore’…

It didn’t take long before I was back in wheat-growing area’s. Where still the harvest, and the wheat-trucks, keep going. One of the farmhouses along my road happened to belong to Stephen & Bron. Of course I didn’t know this untill I’d called in and was offered a place on their gorgeous lawn and dinner with the family.

A great thing about this part of the country is water. There is water. Not that there’s a lack of it in Queensland at the moment, but that’s another story.

I love jumping in puddles and dam’s along the way for a wash or just to cool down.

Packing up my tent one morning I was surprised hearing “Good Morning Mirjam!” from across the river. I didn’t think I knew a lot of people in Warracknabeal…

But I met a family in the pub the night before, and Rosemary was on her run around town when she spotted me packing up across the river. An invitation for breakfast followed.

It’s still amazing to find yourself in situations you could never foresee. Like when I ran into Brian one morning. He’d just gone down to buy a local newspaper when I cycled past…

What started with;”Hello, where are you going?” Ended up a lovely day spent at his house full of miniature-bicycles, Poached eggs, and an interview with the local newspaper…

To my surprise the weather started to be a lot cooler, even some drops came falling down.

It makes for lovely green scenery and I enjoyed riding up and down the hills around Dalesford and if I pretended I was in an Irish summer then it didn’t seem too bad at all.

I thought Australia in summer would be hot and dry. But no, Queensland is flooded and here in Melbourne the rain hasn’t eased since I arrived. But I’m not complaining. Nope. I am actually very excited because I have got a major adventure coming up.

You will see.

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Work and Play

January 23, 2010

Ah!

A new year.

Where will my bike bring me in 2010…It’s not as uncertain as before.

For the first time (ever) I’m fairly convinced I will stay in one country for a whole year!

My application for a 2nd visa has been granted so there we go,

Australia is not going to get rid of me any time soon.

Just when I was about to have a nice quiet x-mass in Geraldton I got a phone call,

Andrew (Byro station) invited me to come down to Dongara to celebrate with his fiancé Lynne’s family.

A few days of drinking beer and eating seafood combined with going to the beach for a bit of spear-fishing and snorkelling.

Gary (Lynne’s dad) even let me have a go at scuba-diving, something I’ve never done before. Completely un-natural to be under water AND breath at the same time! I must say I think I rather be 5000m above then 3m below sea level… (funny coming from a Dutch person huh)

A lovely lunch and even a present made it a special day. But the most wonderful thing was, after 4 months with a sore thumb, Gary managed to get a splinter out that has been bugging me ever since I stayed at Yarrie-station! His trick was to cover my thumb in soaked bread for 24 hours. In case you ever have a splinter that just won’t come out, this is the trick.

For the excitement of the day we found a red-back spider, this lovely little creature that doesn’t look very scary is Australia’s most dangerous spider. A bite will hurt. A lot. This is a female; the males are only a few mm big and are known to be eaten by their partner during mating…  Ouch.

I spent New Year’s in Dongara as well, this time with two work-colleagues…. They reckoned they’d show me ‘the Australian way’…. It involved drinking beer. And drinking some more beer. And then drinking even more beer… The weirdest thing happened though. I got ill. And I haven’t been able to touch any alcohol ever since. That’s abnormal, anyone who knows me knows I really enjoy a beer…  Ah well, no need to make any new year’s resolutions. This one just happened all by itself :-)

After I finished driving the tractor at harvest I had enough cash to go cycling for a good amount of time, but remember Michael? The guy who first plucked me off the road in Mullewa…

He needed an extra hand on his team.

Since I didn’t need money that urgent I told him I work in exchange for a new camera, my old one has been broken for a long time. He agreed and I’m now the proud owner of a Canon EOS 500D :-D

My time with Michael’s Tarping-Team proved interesting and rather entertaining. Some of those blokes I’m working with are ridiculous, one of them was absolutely horrified when I ‘let one fly’…

They joke and do all sorts of stupid stuff with each other, but he reckoned he had NEVER heard a girl fart…. Shock horror.

The work is not particularly hard, it’s just very hot and dirty. The flies drive you crazy and with temperatures reaching into the high 40 it was sometimes impossible to work during the day.

Another factor you have to take into account is the wind. You can’t ‘tarp’ when it’s windy.

So instead you go to the pub. Logic.

On one of those evenings I was very surprised to find the barmaid completely naked apart from her (very VERY) short skirt.

An Australian phenomenon called the ‘skimpy’. For reasons unclear to me on random days (a Wednesday in this case) in random places (the Mullewa pub) a girl serves drinks undressed. No surprise that I was the only other girl in there. A mineworker’s x-mass party was having the best of times…

When there’s no ‘skimpies’ the guys entertain themselves with games of pool and sleeping.

But as soon as it cools down and work conditions are good we drive to one of the sites. The different CBH grain-collection points that we cover lay in a 250km radius, so a lot of driving is involved. That’s where my newly acquired drivers licence comes in handy. Michael even figured I’d be fine to drive the truck…

So my designated job became driving the truck and handling the Hiab.

Next year I might even get my truck-licence 8-)

While being on the road we often call into pubs for a meal. You find mainly people working in the mines, on the roads or (like us) for CBH in the small country pubs this time of year. So you can understand my surprise when I sat down for a bite in ‘Watheroo-pub’ and the lady walks in saying; ‘You can’t sit here in your work-clothes…’ She couldn’t come up with an answer when I asked her why.

The other people in there were a couple of truckies in singlets and thongs… So it wasn’t that there’s a strict dress-code. For a moment I contemplated just taking my work clothes off and eat naked. But I decided against that and walked out instead.

I still can’t understand the problem. If I would’ve been a lawyer, or a truck driver, or a teacher… would I still not be allowed in work clothes…? Obviously I didn’t tip her. Actually I didn’t pay at all. Silly Lady.

I’m starting to get used to the distances here. In the last few weeks I’ve gone to Perth 3 times, a distance that’s the same as driving to Paris from my hometown. And I’ve never been to Paris…

Last time I actually drove the land cruiser back, all by myself. This made me particularly proud because the biggest town I’ve driven a car in so far was Morawa (population 1200)

I was a bit nervous, turned out I didn’t need to be since I was the biggest car around most of the time, so everybody would get out of my way… HA ;-)

The idea was to help Michael out ‘till the end of tarping and then jump on my bike. I got her all clean, oiled and ready to go. Then I started falling apart.

First I hurt my back. So I couldn’t move, couldn’t work and couldn’t cycle. Then I hurt my tooth so I had to go see a dentist who abused me for a bit but reckons it is fixed. It still hurts though.

Sitting still with nothing to do I figured I might as well build myself a brand new website…

And TADAAAA!!! This is it :-D

I’m not completely finished yet. But I’m working on it.

And as soon as my back stops hurting I’ll be back on the road. Because, I’m sure, there is a whole lot of exciting stuff just waiting to happen out there this year. Not least of them becoming an aunty… again :-D

happy new year.

HUG

Mirjam

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