The Magic of the Road

Week four has passed us by with plenty of travel, Pumbaa’s first accident, and a Taoist lesson. As I write, the birdsong is mixed with the chirping of insects in the brush, and the sun takes its final bow for the journey of the day. Take a seat, open your cold drink of choice, and hear the tale.

Our fourth week of travel began with Sabre’s first kennel experience, which we were not looking forward to. Still, Lorraine - the lady who worked the kennels - assured us that he would be rotated out to spend some of the morning and afternoon wandering the outside lawn; and we were glad to hear he would have the opportunity to explore outside. From there, we drove to Karijini National Park, packing a bag with water, snacks, sunscreen and towels; for a day of hiking and swimming. Though we had intended to visit several of the more accessible spots within the park (some of the roads were reportedly in bad need of repair), we only managed to visit Dale’s Gorge. We trekked uphill and traced our way along the edge of a cliff, following the curve of the gorge; all blocky red slabs of stone, layered and piled and strewn about haphazardly, like a child’s lego set. The recess of the gorge was filled with a thick abundance of green trees and shrubs, clustered tightly together, taking advantage of the flash floods that often occur after rainfall.

*Someone’s going to step on these and hurt their foot.*

Together, Alessandra and I made our way down the gorge, along precarious rocky steps that meandered uncertainly to the bottom. From there, we worked our way through the trees, splashing our way through shallow streams and pools until we reached a waterfall. We arrived hot and tired, thoroughly ready for a refreshing swim. The water was bitterly cold, but the chill numbed our bodies and we quickly felt warm enough. Through one of the remarkable coincidences that many travellers report on the road, we happened upon the Dutch couple we’d met at Bullara, and caught up at the base of the waterfall.

Having dried off, we walked to a second pool and lounged on the rocks underneath a low waterfall, close to which we spied a small spotted animal called a quoll - no doubt drawn in by the presence of the water.

At last, it was time to get Sabre. We bought ice-cream from the visitor’s centre as our due for the day’s exertions, and drove most of the way back behind an enormous road train, headed up by several army trucks. Alessandra cooked us burgers for dinner, and we passed into a peaceful sleep.

…

The second day was a dose of serendipity. There is a Taoist parable about a farmer and his neighbour, the latter of whom comments on his good - or ill - fortune as a series of events unfold; while the former remains unwilling to pass judgment on each event (it is often called ‘good or bad, hard to say,’ and is a worthwhile read). A day like today seems to confirm the moral of the story - that no event is objectively ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ as the ripple-effects of any event are many and impossible to predict.

The morning began with Sabre’s second trip to the kennels, to facilitate our second day in Karijini National Park. Sabre was wagging his tail happily, with none of the reservations we’d seen the previous day. It was a good start. Alessandra had made a comment as we were getting ready; that one of the tyres seemed flatter than usual. By the time we got out at the kennel and inspected it again, it was clear that the tyre in question was well and truly flat. As we examined it and wondered what to do (our bus has truck tires with huge bolts, rendering it a very different issue to changing the flat tyre of the average car), a ranger just happened to pull up - to this out-of-the-way kennel - having some business with Lorraine at the kennels. The ranger immediately offered his help, and began pulling out all manner of tools he had in his car. We discovered that we did not have a number of the bits and pieces we needed - having, perhaps, judged them as ‘spare parts,’ and left them behind in Perth. Nevertheless, the ranger was able to detail to us all the things we would need. He even drove back to get his personal car, which had a range of additional tools; however, we were missing the huge socket attachment needed to get the job done.

Meanwhile, Lorraine - who came out to see what was happening - had a husband who worked as a heavy-duty mechanic; so she called him and he came to help, too. Ray - the husband - drove down with some extra attachments, and they tried everything they could; but, unfortunately, the damaged tyre simply wouldn’t come off, and the spare was fused to the bottom of the bus with red dust and age.

With nothing else to do, Ray called up a mechanic in town. There was no answer, so Ray jumped back in his truck and drove to a tyre specialist, who he then brought back with him. The specialist set about with his rattle gun, and the bolts were soon off. It took an extra trip to his workshop to get a replacement tube, but the job was quickly completed; the tyre, restored. When we asked how much we owed, the specialist replied, ‘in cash? $50.’ Only fifty dollars! Just fifty dollars, and we had learned the exact socket and tools we would need to buy; our tyre was completely fixed; and the bolts had all been loosened and re-tightened so that we could remove them ourselves if we were to have another incident down the track. Plus, we now knew that our spare was stuck, and would need some work to make it usable. Absolute bargain. Ray and the ranger - who had stayed with us for two and a half hours already - took their leave, with our profound thanks. To think: if we had blown a tyre anywhere else, we would have been stuck with no tools, no knowledge of what we needed, and perhaps no way of fixing the problem!

So, we were back in action, with better knowledge and only slightly lighter wallets. As it was already midday, we put off going to Karijini for the following day, and instead went into the town centre for breakfast. Alessandra wanted to wander before running errands, so we walked down the street, only to find Mitre-10 right in front of us. Well, we thought, might as well get the parts while we were there. We knew some of the things we needed, but were deliberating about others, when who walks in but Ray and Lorraine! Ray decided to show us around; selecting all the things we might need and putting an end to our uncertainty. More than this: we were invited to their place for the afternoon. It is rare to meet such lovely people, yet we’d met so many already that day.

While Ray gave me the tour, Lorraine and Alessandra got chatting. A few days beforehand, I’d posted in the town’s facebook discussion group about offering mural services, and had received a response from a travelling muralist named Roy, who suggested catching up whilst we were both in town. He had given his number, but it was one digit too long - and he was not responding on Messenger. As they spoke, Alessandra mentioned that I paint murals, and Lorraine was able to provide his mobile number. Additionally, just in case we’d missed Ray and Lorraine, Fate provided us with one of Roy’s murals right outside the shop entrance, complete with his mobile number. I took this for a sign, and called him once we had returned to our campsite.

It was already a surpassingly strange day, yet there was more to come. When I called Roy to arrange a catchup for the evening, I relayed the remarkable set of events which comprised the day so far and, in doing so, mentioned booking Sabre into the kennels for another day. Well, replied Roy, my wife is a real dog lover - would he perhaps like to spend the day with her tomorrow instead? Perfect!

After the call, we spent some time relaxing by the pool at the caravan park and, rejuvenated, made our way to Ray and Lorraine’s, bringing a six-pack to say thank you for all their help. We had beers by the campfire and talked until the sun had well and truly set; then drove in the dark to Roy’s.

Roy and his wife, Dee, lived out of their modified horse float, which was currently parked out the back of an auto place Roy was doing some signwriting work for. They had been travelling for years, with Roy painting as they went; Dee, finding work at each new town. The horse float was one big advertisement, as Roy had painted every inch to look like corrugated iron and wood panels, replete with lizards, naked women, and an Australian flag. Together, we drank merlot and talked painting while Dee spoiled Sabre rotten. That night, we went to sleep wondering at all the wonderful people and remarkable coincidences we’d experienced, all because of a single flat tyre.

…

The following day, we were finally able to get to Hamersley Gorge. Sabre was dropped off with Dee and Roy, and we began the crucible that we had initially been told was a ‘well maintained gravel road;’ but which was, in fact, another hellish corrugated track…and this one was 45km long. Pumbaa was rattled nearly to pieces; nevertheless, we managed to get past the track and pull up at Hamersley, having traded only a few years of our lives to stress.

Hamersley Gorge was made up of wavy layers of red-and-white and orange-and-black banded rock; dipping into a series of blue-green rock pools, fringed with yellow and spilling out into a channel that continued deeper into the gorge. We climbed down the steep steps set into the cliff face, and set up by the biggest pool. As with the others, this pool was ice cold and slippery with algae as we made our way in. We swam the length of the gorge for a time, before coming back to defrost on the rocks; eating crisps and stretching out across the warm stone. From there, we clambered up some jagged, slanted slabs, past successive pools, until we reached a creek and could go no further. We headed back to Pumbaa soon after, enduring the nail-biting, teeth-chattering journey back to Sabre, and to comfort once again.

…

It was time to move on. With Port Hedland in our sights, we drove almost three hours to a rest area that marked the halfway point, watching the trees and hills give way to vast stretches of open plain and yellow grasses, interspersed, here and there, with the odd tree or shrub. When we arrived, we heard ‘Pumbaa!’ A man approached the bus, and disclosed that he and his wife followed us on instagram. They had been on the road for years following a serious motorcycle accident and a review of lifestyle, and he had outfitted their setup to support his wife, who had MS. A stroke of good fortune had made them the winners of a lottery, and they were now making the most of things before settling down.

The man was cheerful and easy to speak to. He offered us a place at their campfire, but by the time we were ready, they had packed in for the night. Instead, I decided to take advantage of the clear night, getting up on the top deck and doing some stargazing. Alessandra joined me before long; and we ate chocolate-covered pineapple pieces and passed time marvelling at the Milky Way.

…

The remainder of the week was eaten up by travel. We stopped in Port Hedland and visited Pretty Pool, where we collected sand dollars and hunted for beautiful shells across an immense expanse of wet sand, rippled by the tide which had pulled way out. From there, we aimed at Broome, using up two jerry cans of petrol as a result of forgetting to fuel up on our way out of Port Hedland. We stayed under a canopy of mango trees and frangipanis, at a roadhouse that supported an unlikely number of peacocks; and even a camel. We also stopped at a rest area where enormous hornets were in profusion - one of which repeatedly investigated me as I was using the facilities, and which came in a total of eight times before I was quit of the place, moving closer and closer with each visit.

It has been an odd week as we travel along the road to grow, yet there are always lessons to learn. Here are a few from this week:

Be open to the journey - you never know when something that seems bad turns out to be a blessing
There are plenty of good people out there
Even a good gravel road sucks

Hot and Heavy

Baby Shark, Daddy Shark, Mummy Shark