select skin: 
Add page to: 
Add page to: Add page to: Sheesh... it is midnight and I am still at the pub. The brat's birthday drinks. Also an excuse to catch everyone before Christmas. There a few faces at the pub that I have not seen for some years - the Territory link. It is good to catch up, find out the goss on mutual aquaintences and laugh about the same old stuff. I have to get home and pack sometime after all we are leaving at 5:30am this morning.
Damn. Forgot cousin needs my bed while I am away - she is moving to Melbourne to become Assistant Director of a new treatment centre over there (radiation therapy). This means I not only have to pack at this ungodly hour, I also have to make my room respectable... though will not make bed til morning when I get up. Sigh. This also means I don't get to watch any of the 'Clerks' or 'Chasing Amy' DVD's I got yesterday (though as I have not slept, it still feels like today). Cleaning. Packing. 3:35am I finish. Say g'night to my flatmate (and dear friend) who is still up for some insane reason, set my alarm for 5am and go out like a light.
5:00am. Geez, does the alarm need to be quite so penetrating... especially when I am already awake stubbornly waiting for the alarm to go off before getting up. I have a flatmate who probably does not need annoying beeping at this hour on a Saturday morning - especially after a Friday night out. I quickly turn off the clock, get out of and strip the bed and remake it for my cousin before heading to the shower. Dressed with my bag, bedding (caravan parks require you to bring your own linen) and boxes of conserving jars for my parents to lug home sitting at the door, I pace up and down waiting for my sister to arrive. I must be my fathers daughter... or rather it is obvious I have grown up with his 'c'mon-up-and-in-the-car-no-dallying-thanks' travelling technique. Flatmate gets up... I roll my eyes at his insanity, while thinking how nice it is to have a flatmate to farewell you.
Sister and her dog Lola arrive - I get bags to the car, farewell tortoises Einstein and Tolstoy, Neo the cat an Oscar the bunny. Hug flatmate once to wish him a Merry Christmas and once as a farewell gesture, jump in the car and we are on our way.
As a non-driver my role is to navigate, control the music, keep the driver alert and watch out for Emu's and Kangaroo's on or near the road... but we are still in the city and so I take time to organise myself. The printout mum sent through the mail from the Travelmate.com.au website's map maker tool, Louy's highways and biways travel book and a selection of CD's.
Hitting Main North Road we see a Leprechaun hanging out of a taxi window yelling something about Princesses... we are not yet on the open road, so our windows are still open. The said Leprechaun is wearing a very boldly stripped pink, purple and white shirt - not unlike some PJ bottoms Louy owns - and is sharing the cab with a heap of other Leprechauns, all of who *may* have been out on the town and are now returning home full of cheer (ok, slightly cut).
The taxi draws closer and our Leprechaun friend keeps chatting and calling out to us though his open window, 'Hey Princesses' while his friend holds a skanky sneaker out of the back window in our general direction... we do not hear what his friend says but are a little perplexed by the shoe. We continue the drive with our comical leprechauns eliciting smiles from us with their continuous commentary. Lights are coming up, and the taxi passes us and halts for a red light at the front of the queued traffic - we are a few cars back. Next thing you know, the Leprechaun is out of the cab and standing at our window asking us with a winning smile, 'can you give me a lift - these guys are really annoying me'. Louy points to the back to indicate that the dog already has claimed all of the spare space, and our leprechaun jumps back from the car with a cry of, 'dog', shrugs and heads back to the taxi.
Traffic moves off again and as we are going different ways, we assume that our entertainment has come to an end. But we are wrong. The taxi continues along side... this time we hear the guy in the back who now once again has the shoe out of the window, 'Cindarella's, Cinderella's... is this your shoe?". We laugh. Eventually we do part ways, but I just want to say that if the leprechauns ever happen across this you deserve a big thank you for starting our road trip off on such a humourous note. Ta.
We drive up through Gawler, stop in Burra for a quick stretch (there is a grassy park near a stream with public facilities just up past the caravan park) and then don't stop until Yunta where we grab brunch. Mmmmm steak sandwich - I have found that few roadside stops go wrong with toasted sandwiches which I cannot say for salads (too soggy) or seafood (reconstituted muck). A lot of the other options are SERIOUSLY greasy and who knows how long they have been sitting aroud in the tray waiting for someone to pick them up.
While we are here I notice a christmas tree - kind of wire-ish in appearance but probably plastic... I mean this is a place that has food and water trays in a cage with a fake (or stuffed) budgie. That's ironic... or maybe just strange. I noticed the tree only because my flatmate and I are building a barbed wire Christmas tree. So I am a bit obsessed about the structure of trees at the moment. Unfortunately we have not yet finished it but promptly message my flatmate about the idea of using fishing line running vertically down the tree to support the coils of wire in case he gets inspired/creative and finishes the tree while we are away.
Just as a side note, is there anything weird about barbed wire that I don't know about? When we went into Harris Scarfes to enquire the guy told us in tones that can only be described as incredulous disapproval that they did not stock it. It was like we had asked for kiddy porn or something. bizarre. We had only tried Harris Scarfes because the day had been so hot and getting to Bunnings was too much extra effort... As it was by trying Harris Scarfes first we missed our bus to Bunnings and had to wait an hour or so for the next one. I still don't get what is shocking about barbed wire. They had it at bunnings and we didn't get any weird looks there. We ate our sandwiches in the closed off playground/eating area at Yunta as this meant we could lift the dog over the fence (yes, yes, we asked permission first) and let her have a bit of a run around while we were eating.
It is so hot. It was warm when we left Adelaide and it has been getting progressively hotter. Airconditioning helps but does not stop the sun from coming through the windows and biting into your skin. You could feel it burning. We - ever being prepared - had on sunscreen and kept reapplying it but both still managed to get burnt.
Eek... shit! What was that. Oh tyre. We stop. The truck tyre is right in the middle of the road and if there is any amount of traffic around could be the cause of a potential accident. I get out, don't even put on my thongs - I'm only going to be a minute (we're travelling, ok? I want something I can slip on and off my feet quickly. It is not like many people will actually see me in thongs). I run up the burning hot road - because I have to, not because I am in a hurry... car coming - move off road as it does not look like it is going to slow... phew, they miss the tyre - but my feet are hurting not only from heat but from walking over the rocks on the edge of the road. Step on to road and grab tyre. Should not have been so hasty as now my fingers are burning as much as my feet and there are spiky bits of wire poking into my fingers. Alter my grip. Drag tyre off road... it is heavy and hot and spiky. Run back to car with cries of 'ouch! shit! hot, hot, hot!' and then we are back on the road again.
Just outside of Broken Hill we go over a drain... whoops... make that a bridge. Oh look, it is called 'Dismal Bridge' - how appropriate.
A bit out of Wilcannia we see a car pulled over... we note our policy and pull over, doors locked and window wound down. We spy a mottled looking woman sitting in the car - I am sure she is not normally mottled but it is a seriously hot day and she is sitting in a car without any airconditioning or shade. We call out and ask if she would like us to call anyone. She tells us her husband headed off to Wilcannia about half an hour to an hour ago and that she is awaiting her return. We offer her water but she tells us she has some... we then look at her again... she is seriously hot... we decide that she is genuine and hop out of the car, grab a mostly frozen bottle of water from the esky in the boot and insist she take it - this way she can pour water over herself, have a cold drink or cool existing water. Back in the car and with waves we head off in the direction of Wilcannia, home of Keith, Buddy and Colin/Colroy of the 'Wilcannia Mob'.
Wilcannia's streets are clean... no rubbish. I vaguely remembing thinking that it was not such a great place... must have been somewhere else. Then I notice the buildings. Bars on windows of both shops,personal residences and even on the church. The bars make a statement and it is not a particularly good one. I realise why my perceptions of Wilcannia may not have been at the top end of the scale. Living or staying in a place where businesses and residents feel it necessary to bar their windows seems a little disconcerting. It is a hot dry place. Red dirt. But lawns are visible and the river is tree lined so there is shade in sight which is a change from the treeless view we have had on the road.
We stop at the roadhouse/petrol station as louy is dying for a pee and we thought we'd get some drinks too. Louy goes into pee and comes out looking a little off colour. The toilets were disgusting... but by the time she got there she was psyched to go and so nature had to take its course regardless of the conditions. No toilet paper either. Squatting by the roadside would have been more comfortable and definitely a more pleasant option. Louy's comment on the return to the car is that she would be astounded if any chick could go to those toilets and not learn how to pee standing (ie. not touching the bowl while still aiming content of bladder into the bowl). You know the type of toilet... think 'Trainspotting' - the worse toilet in Scotland. Bugger roadside signs advertising McDonalds and hotel/motel accommodation what travellers need to see is signs for clean and hygenic public conveniences.
While getting drinks Louy chats with the person behind the counter. They comment how hot it must be travelling and she remarks about the lady we saw back on the road. She is informed that the woman's husband is on his way back to the car. This is good news and it is really not the kind of weather or landscape where anyone should have to sit in the stinking heat. Drinks in hand, we are off again, Cobar is our next designated stop and where we intend to spend the night. We estimate we are getting over 250 km to half a tank of petrol in the Excel and therefore can make it without any additional stops.
Sigh. We decide to stop at the Emmdale Roadhouse... petrol top up, just to be on the safe side... we think we might make it to Cobar, but best to be sure right?. Louy also wants to give her legs a stretch and the dog a run. It is stinking hot and there is no shade so being outside of the car is pretty uncomfortable and the sun has more direct access to burn ones skin. We don't stay long... and are soon back in the car on the way to Cobar.
We hit Cobar. Where, might I note we expected to have mobile reception but instead were met with disappointment despite the sign at the petrol station advertising mobile phone cards. Seriously el-crappo mobile reception for most of the way (at least for Voda Phone and Optus networks, anyway). We didn't have CDMA mobiles but have heard that for this strip of road that they don't get much reception either. Why are mobiles made with such short range... alright for highly condensed populations, but Australia is pretty spreadout and lots of people travel so it might be nice to have something that was actually built to suit Australia's spreadout population and rurual areas.