Dark Night of the Soul
Week six of our adventure will go down in this log as the week that fate decided to swing a hard left to our plans. Is Pumbaa okay? Will we make it out of this alive? Read on, and find out for yourself…
Apocalypse, day one. It began on the 21st of June, when we were finally saying goodbye to Broome and turning our faces north once again. We had sketched rough plans to explore the northeast of WA as far as we could, then head back to Perth on the inland road in time for my medical appointments. It felt good to hit the road again after the long break, and both Alessandra and myself were in good spirits. It was twenty minutes in that the white smoke began, billowing out of Pumbaa’s bonnet in great clouds and entirely obscuring the road ahead; forcing our drive to an abrupt stop.
Some context to the situation: recently, we had noticed a light on the dashboard, labelled ‘VAC,’ lit up in candy red when we started Pumbaa. An odd sound accompanied the higher end of the early gears, just before shifting up. The light generally switched off once we were underway, but we wanted to get it checked out, just in case. During our visit to Broome, we had called most of the mechanics in town; but, being the busy season, everyone was booked up for weeks and unable to get us in. There was nothing we could do. Still, Pumbaa was driving fine, so we figured we could get him checked once we were back in Perth, or in one of the other major towns on the way home.
Well, this time, the little red light did not turn off, and Pumbaa was toasted. Shortly after we pulled over, Providence sent us a ‘bush mechanic’ - one of the many Aussie travellers who seem to know everything there is to know about fixing cars - and he pulled up to help us out. Steam hissed out of Pumbaa and clouded the interior when the good samaritan slowly released the pressure, and it smelt like cooked engine coolant and hot metal. It turned out that a valve or bolt had shot out of the radiator, and the coolant was all but depleted, causing the engine to overheat. The man seemed to think it had been loose, vibrated out; thankfully, I found a spare bolt and some thread tape to act in its stead. The man fitted the bolt into place, and taught us to slowly trickle water into the coolant reservoir, to avoid cracking any of the heated parts. He told us that the water should keep us for at least a few weeks, and left.
Smoking is bad for your health…
We decided to trundle back into town, determining that we needed to get Pumbaa checked sooner rather than later. We bought a 5L bottle of coolant, then searched again in vain for a mechanic. With no luck, we next sought out a pet-friendly caravan park in town, not wanting to risk the twenty-minute drive back to Gateway Caravan Park. Nada. Everyone was full; Gateway was the only option. We held our breath and struck out once again.
We drove in silence. In the first five minutes, the interior smelt like coolant - but I put that down to the coolant that was now drying on the exterior of the engine, after spraying out during the initial incident. Then, there was a prolonged hissing. Fifteen minutes in, the hissing stopped abruptly, and something smelled like it was cooking. Finally, with just three minutes’ drive to Gateway, black smoke began pouring from the exhaust, followed by white steam from the front. Alessandra lost much of the steering, and we had to pull over on the side of the road for the second time that day.
This time, it was getting dark, and we had few options. Alessandra brought Sabre’s dog bed out, and sat with our pup by the side of the road as I checked over the manual and scoured Pumbaa for the cause of the issue. It was no use - Pumbaa was not going anywhere. We called CIL - our insurer, but after an hour of wait music, we gave up on seeking their help. Next, we called RAA, which offered roadside assistance - even if you weren’t signed up. We got through quickly, signed up, and managed to arrange a tow to Gateway.
“Am I being abandoned?”
While the tow was on its way, I tried one last thing: assuming that there was a pipe leak, and that the hissing noise was the water from earlier that day steaming out, I tried pouring the newly bought coolant into the reservoir. It took the whole five litres, and Pumbaa chugged into life when we tried him. With this, we managed to skip the tow and limp into Gateway for the night, with no idea what we would do next.
…
The next day wasn’t much better. We called out the roadside assist assessor from RAC, who came and promptly surveyed the situation. He advised that we had a loose fan belt, a bolt missing, and a bent radiator bracket contributing to our problem; and stated flatly that we would need a workshop to make repairs. So, we were stuck. Alessandra called around again, and managed to score a cancellation at one of the workshops for a week’s time; so we booked in another week at Gateway and took inventory of what needed to be done. We would need a rental car - which meant we would need a lift into town. We would also need to look at getting a tow into the mechanic on the day of the repairs, and at least one night of pet-friendly accommodation in town (provided the mechanic didn’t need more time to sort the issue). To top it all off, it seems that in slamming the boot shut yesterday, I somehow managed to latch it locked, so that it simply will not open - meaning we had to get everything we needed from the hatch inside the bus. This meant me crawling inside the boot, to pull out the most important things - which were now in the least accessible places.
God, I hated our trip on this day. It felt like the universe was throwing obstacles in our path from every angle, so that we had no option but to cut our trip short. It felt so unfair. Yet, as much as I felt that pessimism writhing inside, I also recalled the incident with the flat tyre, and wondered how this might end up being a gift. After all, we were able to get to safety and avoid some larger calamity that could have struck us on the remote roads further north. Who could really say what the next week or month would bring?
…
The following morning, we took stock. We were stuck at Gateway, without groceries or a way into town, but we needed that rental car. Thankfully Jack - the friend we’d chanced upon last week while we walked around Broome - was still here, and he arranged a lift for me from one of his friends. Amir was a worldly sort of guy, having come from Israel to adventure around Australia for ten months; we chatted about life and travel all the way to the rental place. Thanks to Jack and Amir’s generosity, we had our freedom once again.
…
Day four of the apocalypse: we drove out to Red Sand Beach for some much needed rest and relaxation. I flew my drone over the rich red sand as the tide rushed in to meet Alessandra and Sabre. We had lunch and gelato in town, and had planned to get groceries, but Alessandra was feeling unwell and we decided to leave it until tomorrow. We had a long, difficult discussion in the car, diffusing some of the stress and frustration that had been building pressure in us over the past days. Sometimes, all that’s needed is painful, honest communication; and, though we were drained, we ended the day feeling lighter than when we had started.
Red Sand Beach - wonder how it got its name?
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After an earthquake, there are aftershocks, and emotions work the same way. The next day was off to a rocky start; so we decided to enjoy a cocktail lunch at Cable Beach, bundled Sabre into the rental car, and headed off. When we got there, we discovered that dogs were prohibited where we wanted to go. Nothing is harder than when you’re striving to make things better, and are thwarted in the attempt. Deflated, we parked at Coles and had another, harder conversation, and I had to come to terms with the part of myself that forever seeks to cast events in a negative light. It is as though there are two halves to me - one, automatic, always pulling me downward, wanting to see the worst in things; the other, conscious, fighting back with all its might. It is exhausting, but never more so than when things get difficult. It was a good talk, and much-needed. Alessandra got the groceries; and we headed back to a comforting night of tacos, ice cream and a movie (Beyond Skyline - absolutely terrible) before bed.
…
Apocalypse, day six: had our plan prepared. The appointment with the mechanic was on the 30th, and we would have Pumbaa towed down on the 29th, to spend the night in the lot. We had a pet-friendly Airbnb booked for ourselves that evening, hoping that Pumbaa would be ready for action again before the end of the following day. The lightness that follows difficult conversations mingled with the sense of solidarity that a plan provides; and we felt, if not positive, hopeful. We took breakfast at Dragonfly Cafe, and browsed a few shops. One of these - an art gallery - boasted a 17th century princess dowry chest, purchased from a travelling antiques dealer many years ago. After I spent far too long talking excitedly with the gallery owner, we wandered a while and had that elusive cocktail lunch. Back at Gateway, I spent the rest of the day completing Pumbaa’s mural design at last.
Cocktails by Cable Beach
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Drizzling rain meant no mural painting to cap off the sixth week of travel. We discovered that the fridge was no longer getting enough power to keep the groceries cool, so we tried to use as many perishables as we could; but we were going to lose a lot either way. The day was a boring one, and we spent it on phones and in books. We threw the ball in the dog run to give Sabre some exercise, and ended up spending a good while trying to get the ball out of a tree; followed by a good while trying to get both my sandals and the ball out of the tree. We visited a mango farm for lunch, served by two people who may have had the fewest skills in hospitality I have ever seen. We bought mango rock candy, sherbert and mango port; returned to Pumbaa to play Mario Kart, and ate a beef brisket dinner.
Unsuccessful attempt #2537
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This has, without doubt, been the hardest week on the road to grow. We have experienced trial after trial, and misfortune seems intent on pursuing us. Yet, we have hope, a plan, and the will to overcome it. Let’s review what we’ve learned:
If there’s a light on the dash, get it checked. If no-one’s available, wait it out until someone is. You don’t want to risk being stuck in the middle of nowhere, like we almost were
Good friends and generous people are nice to meet when things are going well, but are invaluable in a pinch
Honest conversations, however difficult, are essential
As my favorite author, Neil Gaiman, once said: “events run in packs.” So, take them one at a time, and try not to let them catch you as a group
