Full Circle
Our eighth week brought an end to the first chapter of our travels, as we prepared for our temporary return to Perth. When writing a book, closing a chapter means a few things: tying up some loose ends, slowing down and, of course, having a juicy cliffhanger right at the end to hook the reader. Let’s get to it.
The first morning of week eight began with smuggling Sabre out of the caravan park for a walk. See, the caravan park we’d booked stated online that it was pet friendly; yet upon arrival, we read the check-in brochure we were given, and saw ‘sorry - no pets’ printed in big, block letters, right there on the overleaf. Oh dear. We had already paid for three nights, so there was nothing left but to initiate Operation Ghost Dog. Sabre was surprised, to say the least, that his usually easygoing morning started with being suddenly bodily picked up off his bed, rushed out of the bus and tumbled into a waiting car. It all felt a bit mafia, but he was too bewildered to even think about making noise. I drove out of the caravan park and walked around with him until he’d done what he needed to do, before zipping back in and throwing him back into the bus. This was to be our routine, three times a day, for three days. He got used to it. Kind of.
That morning, we booked our flights and finalised details for shipping Pumbaa back. We drove to a local shopping centre to get some suitcases, so that we could pack everything we would need to make our transition to Perth less bumpy. I took Sabre for a wander while Alessandra got the suitcases and tried on some clothes. Loading the cases into the back, I noticed hers was significantly heavier than mine; we opened it to reveal a second, smaller suitcase, which we seemed to have unintentionally stolen from Red Dot. This is how a smuggler’s life starts: first, the dog; then a suitcase…before you know it, we’ll be cutting deals and calling ourselves ‘the free market.’ Alessandra - in a manner that bespeaks a near-unheard of moral purity - wanted to return it; as far as I was concerned, we’d scored a free suitcase. It remained in the car. That’s where the problems began, I think.
Temptation made manifest
We tagged out, and I went to check out a few shops while Alessandra hung out with Sabre in the car. When I got back and tried to start the rental, it was dead, beat-box clatter of the starter motor failing to get even close to the sound we were praying for. After several failed attempts, we had no choice but to call the rental roadside assist, who said they would have someone out within the hour. It was hot and uncomfortable in the car, but there was nowhere else to go. Alessandra suggested the possibility that we were receiving divine punishment for taking the suitcase. Resigned, I told her to return it - after all, I don’t want God to be angry at me over a suitcase - and we really didn’t need it anyway. Karmic debt paid, the roadside assist arrived shortly after - and wouldn’t you know it, it was the same assessor who has attended Pumbaa on three separate occasions! Since we were firm friends at this point, I updated him on Pumbaa’s status, discussed the almost comical bad luck at having a second vehicle break down on us, and noted that I hoped that luck didn’t extend to aeroplanes.
By the time we were back up and running, day was stretching into evening, and we were ready to head home and do nothing until it was time to sleep.
…
The next day was our final full day in Broome. After some final preparations, I ducked into town to get a few paints, then set up and continued with Pumbaa’s mural. I carved into the light colours with darker shadow-shapes, and brought it close to a finish before calling it a day. After a mixed lunch (trying to use up perishable foods for the second time this trip), we took Sabre to a remote end of Cable Beach, throwing a stick out into the water and generally doing our best to exhaust him.
Dat whale
Back home, Alessandra was feeling unwell, and requested that I go into town to get a specific kind of medicine. Luckily, Coles was still open, and they had the Ben & Jerry’s flavour she had self-prescribed. I bought it and some beer, before returning to make a start on dinner. Unfortunately, Sabre had decided that a ‘no pets allowed’ campground was a great place to develop gastro, and he was starting to whine; so I had to take him out before beginning anything else.
Dinner was done, and by the time we had finished the ice cream - about a third of the way through Titanic - Alessandra was beginning to feel better. Sabre, however, was not, and needed to be carted out once more before bed.
…
It was the day of the flight, and we fervently hoped that the worst of Sabre’s stomach issues were over. I took Sabre out early and we packed Pumbaa back up, loading stuffed suitcases into the back of the car. We left the caravan park - Alessandra and Sabre in Pumbaa, me in the rental car - impressed with ourselves at having successfully managed to hide Sabre from the authorities for three days - despite his habit of being a whinge-machine. Pumbaa managed the short drive to the transport company, and will await his lonely drive in their lot. We drove back to the walking trail by Cable Beach to sneak in a little more exercise for Sabes; before taking him to the crate. Speaking politely, I would say that the experience was not to his taste.
Convict
With everything in place, there was nothing left to do but to check our luggage in and wait. We hung around the airport cafe - that chaotic communal centre that pulls in every traveller, simply because there aren’t any other decent places to sit. I sketched and studied tigers until our flight was called; then we walked the tarmac and clambered aboard our plane.
We passed the short flight playing Mario Kart and watching Chris Hemsworth hurt a lot of people very badly in Extraction 2 and, before we knew it, we were back. Mum collected us in the pickup zone, helping us to load our luggage into the convertible through a cold drizzle, which hit harder after so long in the sunshine. We drove a short way to the cargo hold, and collected a very happy Sabre before making our way home.
Welcome home, would you care for some cold? A little rain, perhaps?
My little brother met us back at mum’s place. We went to Hillarys Boat Harbour together and ate pizza and drank beer, regaling mum and Matt with tales of our adventures, and some of the lessons we have learned along the way - of which, as you know, there have been many. What are some of the takeaways from this last week, I hear you ask? Well:
We would make great smugglers. After all, if we can keep a whiney, unselfconscious dog with diarrhea in a no-pets caravan park for three days - without anyone being the wiser - we can do anything
God hits back hard. Do the right thing the first time
Ice cream is a legitimate cure-all
Cold weather sounds nicer when you’re thinking about it in hot weather
There’s no place like home
As I write this entry, we are coming to the end of our eighth week on the road to grow. We had been back in Perth for a few days, and spent these resting and catching up with family. We expect Pumbaa to be back within a week, bringing with him a slew of jobs and errands; but, for now at least, we can focus on getting settled.
This is, after all, only the beginning…
