![\"Work\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.onthewallaby.net\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/IMG_2150_edited-1.jpg\")
<\/a>I did the Harry Holt from the car park at work at about 5:15am, Tuesday 22nd<\/sup> September 2009. This was a long time coming (and a couple of hours earlier than the roster would have anyone believe). I had completed the first ten of a twelve hour nightshift, fired up the beast and headed West \u2013 singing Springsteen as I went. I had two weeks of holidays to go and I was feeling pretty damn good, despite the lack of sleep. My intent was to make it to Goondiwindi before the deadly drowsiness of post-nightshift driving kicked in.<\/p>\n Though my recent tendency has been to listen to country music (and I did mostly), I still associate The Boss\u2019s \u2018No Surrender\u2019 with cutting loose the ties and heading for freedom. The\u2019 Born In The USA\u2019 album was released in Australia in 1984, the year I finished High School \u2013 and I maintain it is still the greatest rock album of all time! I still LOVE the booming start to that song\u2026..<\/p>\n \u201cWell we busted outta class, had to get away from those fools,<\/p>\n We learned more from a three-minute record Baby, than we ever learned in school.<\/p>\n Tonight I hear the neighbourhood drummer sound, I feel my heart begin to pound,<\/p>\n You say you\u2019re tired and you just wanna close your eyes, and follow your dreams down\u2026\u2026..<\/p>\n Well we made a promise, swore we\u2019d always remember,<\/p>\n No retreat Baby, No surrender\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n I barrelled into Warwick at around seven and was still feeling clear of mind and fine of voice, so I pressed on. At a roadworks stop just outside of town, I noticed an unusual colour in the sky further on \u2013 it appeared to be some kind of dust-storm. I took a few happy-snaps, because city folk never get to experience such impressive bush phenomenon \u2013 wait till they see my photos!<\/p>\n Twenty K\u2019s up the highway and visibility was down to about fifty metres and I had all lights blazing on the Land Cruiser.<\/p>\n Little did I know, I had stumbled into the worst dust-storm in living memory \u2013 and as it turned out, the cities copped their fair share after all. I got on the UHF truckies channel 40 and asked if anyone knew if the dust storm stretched all the way to Gundi? One helpful soul advised me that she stretched all the freakin way to West Wyalong.<\/p>\n Lovely.<\/p>\n I was glad to roll down Gundi\u2019s main street, after much concentrated driving through the dust. I booked into a motel and grabbed a bacon & egg roll and chocky milk from Batesy\u2019s bakery. The cold milk was beautiful going down a dusty throat. I unpacked my guns and Guitar, locking them in the room, had a shower and headed to the pub. The Queensland Hotel. Surprisingly, I was the only patron in there so early in the morning \u2013 and in fact, had to holler for the barmaid for some service.<\/p>\n I chatted to Kathy for a while \u2013 apparently just after she had evicted a local lad from the accommodations, by gathering his belongings and dumping them on the veranda while he was occupied elsewhere. I had hoped to be around for the ensuing confrontation upon his return but weariness got the better of me. I returned to my room, had a few Southerns , watched the telly and enjoyed a mixed-grill for tea before crashing for about fourteen hours of glorious sleep.<\/p>\n If you\u2019ve never tried it, I recommend staying up all night (sober) and drinking a few the next day \u2013 you find yourself in some kind of fantasy land, where the smallest of things is hilariously amusing and you have a unique and fascinating outlook on life. It\u2019s an interesting perspective \u2013 I believe it is primarily the tiredness that gives you the sillies. I\u2019m not sure if the drink gives you anything except a reason to stay awake?<\/p>\n Incidentally, I noted a peculiar thing in my travels \u2013 that being that I had not laid eyes on an Asian face since I left Brisbane. Perhaps they don\u2019t fancy the area, or maybe find the local populous not especially to their liking? But then the natural beauty of the region may have escaped the Asian eye til this point \u2013 who knows? Anyway, in this day of \u2018multiculturalism\u2019 they were just conspicuous by their general absence.<\/p>\n By the time I got up the next day, the dust had all but cleared from both the atmosphere and my mind \u2013 a nice hot shower, fresh clothes and I was away \u2013 ears pinned back and headed for Byrock!<\/p>\n Gundi is only just over the Qld-NSW border and Boggabilla just a good spit on a strong windy day from there. Then Moree, Collarenebri , Walgett and on to Brewarrina, where I filled up with Diesel, bought some ice and gas, had a wiz, mixed a special little Southo in a 600ml coke bottle (as none of my beer was cold yet). I asked the kind lady in the garage how I would find the dirt road to Byrock \u2013 she said \u201cOh \u2013 yeah, you just go through Gongolgon and you\u2019ll see a turnoff with a sign\u201d<\/p>\n I said \u201cBeauty. Where is that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u2018Oh, yeah -it\u2019s just down here and turn left at the second street\u2019.<\/p>\n And with that and a contented grin, I headed off. I began to suspect she\u2019d bum-steered me as I\u2019d expected the dirt to start much closer to town, but no sooner had I expressed my reservations, than I stumbled upon the promised sign and dusty red road. Periodically swigging my (much too strong) Southo (which I\u2019d purchased on special from the Gundi pub \u2013 whilst in that delirious condition the day before), I thundered down the final stretch!<\/p>\n After about sixty K\u2019s of dirt track, I burst forth onto the Mitchell Highway and caught sight of the Mulga Creek Hotel, for the first time in a couple of years. Ahhh \u2013 she\u2019s a beauty.<\/p>\n I did a bit of audible \u2018Yip, Yip, Yippeee!!! Woooohoooo!!! Brrrrrrrr-yip-yip-yip!!!!\u2019 work, as I crossed the extensive car-parking area, and while this is clearly a childish cry of excitement, it\u2019s always seemed an appropriate way to celebrate our arrival after the weeks of anticipation and the long drive \u2013 and I didn\u2019t come out here to be a serious grown-up anyway.<\/p>\n I parked the car, grabbed my hat and strode through the doors \u2013 only to be greeted by a surprisingly beautiful and welcoming face.<\/p>\n \u201cHullow\u201d<\/p>\n Wow!<\/p>\n \u2018G\u2019day \u2013 a schooner of New thanks\u2019<\/p>\n The barmaid was quite a stunning vision, with crystal-clear blue eyes, blonde hair and a smile that lit up the room! She turned out to be Jani (pronounced Yarnee) \u2013 a strapping young girl of German descent.<\/p>\n Having been in Australia for around 12 months, and knocked round some of the more remote areas, including Territory stations and some down-time in Darwin, Jani had a pretty thorough grasp of Australianisms used in our local speech, though she still had the remnants of her Fatherland accent.<\/p>\n This mainly manifested itself in words with \u201cO\u201d, like hello, smoke or righteo \u2013 which Jani pronounces as hullow, smowke and righteow. In the same way you might say \u201cOw\u201d when you jam a finger (not as in \u201cOur\u201d).<\/p>\n Anyway, I loved listening to her speak (almost as much as I enjoyed admiring her looks).<\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t alone there \u2013 I heard Jani turn down several proposals of marriage during the time I spent in the bar. I reckon she would be a pretty good catch in anyone\u2019s books \u2013 open, friendly and beautiful.<\/p>\n Jani asked where I was headed and I replied \u201cI\u2019m here\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cOwkay\u201d<\/p>\n Then Pete the publican entered the fray. I hadn\u2019t seen Pete for two years and he also asked where I was headed \u2013 \u201cI\u2019m here\u201d.<\/p>\n He then somehow seemed to fancy that he\u2019d seen my face before and asked if this were the case. I told him that I was the front runner of a bunch of blokes heading up here next week, from down south. He remembered the mob and we had a chat.<\/p>\n Pete is a very savvy businessman \u2013 he understands the importance in a small business such as his, of the personal touch. Several times over the next few weeks, he asked me certain people\u2019s names (behind their backs), so he could address them as mates, rather than blow-in customers. He\u2019s a friendly bloke and will always stop for a chat, and though you\u2019d think his job would be pretty limited out there, the bloke is always on the run \u2013 with a hammer, a drill, a sign, horse feed, a broom, firewood or a bottle of hydraulic fluid in his hand.<\/p>\n Pete\u2019s wife Gloria is every bit as busy and as friendly \u2013 I\u2019m not sure of all the things she does behind the scenes, but I suspect that if she were not there for an extended period, the place may well collapse.<\/p>\n Pete had lost some weight since the last time I saw him \u2013 he\u2019d apparently had a disagreement with a horse over some minor issue and come off second best. He\u2019d have mounted right back up again but for the smashed hip and pelvis. He can\u2019t bend right over now and he has a little hitch in his getalong, but it all adds to his character and he\u2019s not one to complain.<\/p>\n The second barmaid drove up in the hotel ute \u2013 Wow!<\/p>\n I immediately sent the boys an SMS \u2018HOT Barmaids!!!! Ooo Yeah J\u2019.<\/p>\n Andra was a little hottie of nineteen summers, also from Germany. She had longish brown hair, blue eyes, perfect skin, and soft-looking young lips. She exuded innocence, though I suspect a more dangerous side lurked just below the surface. Her grasp of Australianisms was not what it might have been and though she tried hard to understand and please, she still has a bit to learn. Andra was good fun all round, with a terrific sense of humour \u2013 often laughing at herself (which I think is a great Australian trait) \u2013 maybe there is true hope for Andra-the-Aussie yet. She too had to fight the young bucks (and a few old bulls) off with a stick.<\/p>\n Peter\u2019s old mate Mick is the quintessential Aussie bushman. He is at all times topped by a battered and stained old Woomera style Akubra hat, he sports a standard button-up country shirt and he wears faded jeans, very low on the waist \u2013 strung there by the old horse-hobble bushies belt, complete with horizontal pocket knife. (True Aussie bushmen seem to prefer the horizontal belt-knife, as opposed to the vertical gun-slinger style preferred by the Americans). The metal rings and knife make such belts too bulky for the average jeans belt hooks, so Mick simply strung it over his jeans, about halfway up his bony seat. This left the crotch hanging closer to the ground than the fashion designer had probably intended, and also gives the impression that the wearer has an extended torso and shorter legs. A pair of well-worn and dusty boots complete Mick\u2019s authentic bush ensemble.<\/p>\n Funnily enough, Mick\u2019s brand spanking new Akubra had arrived at the Mulga Creek Pub this very day and Pete brought it out of the bag, pristine. He gets a good deal on Akubra\u2019s if anyone is interested.<\/p>\n Mick picked up the hat, examined the milliner\u2019s expert handiwork, and then commenced to rip out the apricot-coloured inner satin lining \u2013 \u201cGet rid of that cr@p \u2013 it makes your head too sweaty\u201d.<\/p>\n He then retrieved his knife from it\u2019s handy spot on his belt and cut out the inner leather hat band \u2013 physically ripped it off and dumped it with the lining on the bar stool \u2013 \u201cYa don\u2019t want that\u2026and p1ss this blo0dy feather thing off too\u201d.<\/p>\n He threw that on the ground.<\/p>\n He re-examined it and said \u201cYeah \u2013 that\u2019s better. I won\u2019t be wearing it to town though, till I take it home and have the dogs p1ss all over it and kick it around a bit\u201d.<\/p>\n Then he put his old one back on.<\/p>\n Mick was an old mate of Stan Coster, who penned many hit songs for Slim Dusty. In fact, Mick has released several CD\u2019s himself, along the same lines and in the bush-ballad style. He laughs easily, jokes continuously (the same way he drinks his rum and milk), and is friendly to all. Mick has a history, as far as I know, of running Leather goods shops, hotels, several stations and now manages a camel station. I suspect he may have been quite the fearsome fighter in his younger day \u2013 no one becomes that lippy without offending people every now and then, and laughter and charm only get you so far.<\/p>\n Mick is a born entertainer, it comes as naturally to him as breathing and it was he who \u2018compered \u2018 the donkey and camel races, as well as the Rooster, pig and goat chases on the Muster Day.<\/p>\n Mick also had a few old mates with him \u2013 I\u2019m not sure of there names but I\u2019d say between the two of them, they\u2019d be lucky to own four teeth. So while their smiles may win them no prizes, their scarred and gnarled hands stood testament to a lifetime of hard and skilled work among rugged animals and tough men. It was fascinating to listen to banter and thorough knowledge of all things country among these old boys \u2013 three blokes who would likely have less formal education between them than I had in my first twenty years of life. Yet they all strike me as men you\u2019d want on your side should things go bad \u2013 I also get the feeling that they\u2019d be as loyal as the day is long.<\/p>\n Bugsy is a local lad born and bred. I remember seeing him riding round on a little red motorbike as a young teenager. Like me, becoming a jockey was never given serious consideration by Bugs \u2013 our frames are not naturally conducive to such pursuits. He\u2019s always been a larger lad, with a fondness for small ag-bikes and a penchant for wearing Flanno shirts. The only difference today, is that he now shaves his facial whiskers when the fancy strikes him, which is apparently all too irregular.<\/p>\n Bugs spends great swathes of time at the Mulga Creek Hotel, drinking some concoction involving Green Ginger Wine and softdrink. He appears to be at all times flush with cash, yet I understand he earns a quid by trapping goats on occasion and gambling. He seems to be quite content to continue in this vein but sometimes supplements his entertainment by taking the mickey out of visiting travellers. He\u2019s a harmless young fella and a permanent fixture is old Bugsy.<\/p>\n Sonya is a part time barmaid at the establishment \u2013 she\u2019s as Aussie as they come. Straight up and down, though even at her young age she seems to have had enough of the drinkers lip, attempted charm, flirtatious repartee and general banter. Sonya does her job efficiently, with a minimum of fuss \u2013 her partner is a lanky young bloke with a tendency of getting himself into strife. At this particular time, he\u2019d done himself some mischief involving a leg \u2013 he was unsure as to the cause of the pain, or the actual problem itself but it gave him grief just the same. He had however, decided to determine the root cause in his own time and leave the doctors and other assorted medical professionals to their own devices.<\/p>\n I had a pretty early night that Thursday \u2013 headed back about 9:30, past the normal camping ground behind the pub, and went about 500 metres into the bush. I laid out my new ground sheet (to provide me with a few square feet of burr-free, barefoot stomping ground should nature call through the night), and then laid my swag down upon it. The wind was still howling \u2013 in fact had barely let up since the dust storm. I climbed into bed, which was surprisingly comfortable and admired the millions of stars, just before I drifted off to a pleasant night\u2019s sleep.<\/p>\n I got up the next morning, sat in the car and listened to the news on ABC radio, then played a few country CD\u2019s as I set up my two-burner gas stove and cooked up some steak and snags in the only pot I brought with me. I had my trusty camp oven but wouldn\u2019t risk the gidgee coals blasting all angles of the territory in the howling wind, should I start a fire.<\/p>\n My generous brother-in-law Johnny had given me his superseded family tent and I\u2019d planned to set myself up a real comfy camp \u2013 with soft wide bed, warm blankets, pillows and plenty of room for all the stuff currently filling my car.<\/p>\n So I laid the canvas out on the bulldust \u2013 wow, she\u2019s a big one \u2013 and commenced joining the poles together and placing them where I deduced they would be best suited (who said that those four years spent studying engineering at Uni were wasted?).<\/p>\n All looked rather promising \u2013 until I began the search for the illusive pegs and ropes that are apparently so very crucial in providing stability to these big, comfy family tents!<\/p>\n Okay, I accept partial blame due to my inherent laziness by not erecting the structure in my backyard before I headed for the bush, but I like to pride myself on my self-perceived bush skills and resourceful nature.<\/p>\n There I stood examining my potential haven – no ropes, no pegs, a howling wind and a very frustrated \u2018bushman\u2019 finally accepting the obvious fact that this luxurious abode will not be welcoming tenants anytime soon. I re-bagged all the poles, rolled the tent back up, apparently in an unaccustomed fashion, as I struck great difficulty in re-inserting the offending abomination back into it\u2019s protective bag. It resembled a snake swallowing a wild pig at one stage, but with great commitment, persistence and some jumping about, squashing down and squeezing in, I managed to get the thing back into its sack.<\/p>\n Lucky I like my swag, anyway.<\/p>\n I had a quiet day on Friday due to the promise of the Muster madness I\u2019d anticipated the following day.<\/p>\n As I lay in my swag that night, I once again marvelled at the billions of stars twinkling above \u2013 however, about twenty minutes later they were all obscured by a second dust storm. The wind dust-blasted my face for a few hours of intermittent sleep, until I decided to lay the big canvas flap right over the top of my head. This ploy worked a treat, except that every now and then the flap would lift up and whip me in the head like a fluttering flag.<\/p>\n I got up Saturday morning, cooked some tucker and played a bit of guitar around my camp.<\/p>\n My mates were not expected until at least Wednesday. Then they would be arriving in dribs and drabs until Friday – but today was the Byrock Mulga Creek Hotel Muster Day!<\/p>\n I had a shower (they are fantastic showers at Byrock!) and donned my good gear \u2013 Blundstone boots, Fui Fui jocks (named so after a photo of Fui Fui Moi Moi appeared in the paper as he prepared to dive into the pool \u2013 they have a slightly longer leg and are totally unsuitable as a standalone garment in public!), Jeans, new RM Williams blue, pink and white button up shirt, which was a striped affair and of course my trusty Akubra (Colly style originally but altered to suit \u2013 named after the town of Collarenebri). I headed to the pub at about 11 and the crowd was already gathering. I explained to several people that I was striving to hangout till at least midday before trying a beer \u2013 but what can one do under that kind of pressure? I felt like Michael Corleone from the Godfather \u2018Every time I try to get out, they drag me back in\u2026..\u2019<\/p>\n So I had my first beer a tad prior to midday.<\/p>\n Pete, Mick and the boys had built an oval race track at the northern end of the car park, probably about forty by twenty metres, constructed of the same mobile gate structures they use for temporary rodeo arenas etc. The centre of the track had comfy and neat animal accommodations, from where curious and contented camels and dopey-looking long-eared donkeys gazed about nonchalantly. If I\u2019d have built the structure, I\u2019d have left it as a permanent monument to my construction skills such was my admiration for their ability with such things. But they pulled the thing down several days later so\u2019s you\u2019d never have known it had been there at all.<\/p>\n The bar girls were in full swing, including a few imports, the beer flowed, the wind blew, the crowd grew and Mick warmed to the occasion with the microphone and MC duties occupying his attention.<\/p>\n He got all the little kids on the track and let loose a flighty rooster for them to catch. Mick makes great claims as he calls the session to order, things such as \u201cThis Rooster here, he\u2019s got spurs like a cut-throat razor \u2013 he\u2019s already done in two of my favourite pig dogs \u2013 and that was while he covered the hens! He out-ran the ute on the way to the pub today and he\u2019s bitten more fingers than a rusty rabbit-trap. Come on kids \u2013 chase him up and let\u2019s see who can catch him!\u201d<\/p>\n The kids take off in a cloud of dust \u2013 hardly game to go near the bird, it was left to the smallest kid of all to catch him when he flew into his chest.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay young fella \u2013good one. Now take your rooster over to your mother and put him in the car \u2013 you\u2019ve won yourself a lovely rooster there Champ, well done\u201d.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n They did the same with a few goats and pigs and though the kids appeared keen, I got the feeling that several were afraid of the animals, some not game and then a few others frightened. It was all good clean fun \u2013 but none of the parents seemed too enthusiastic about taking home their prizes.<\/p>\n I\u2019m sure the kids would have loved to, but in the end, Mick took them all back in good humour to his property, from which they had originated.<\/p>\n It was great to see Aussie kids having some active country fun, not to mention hilariously entertaining at the same moment. A good time was had by all.<\/p>\n The local Vet, Lochy McLachlan was there to keep a keen eye on the welfare of all animals and raised no concerns about their treatment. Most country folk have a solid and ingrained respect for their stock and animals in general, so you seldom find such folk abusing any beast or causing unwarranted distress.<\/p>\n They auctioned off several small horses and donkeys etc, to be runners in the up-coming races. My new mate Ken, who regularly does odd jobs about the pub, and still sporting battle scars from a sulky-spill the previous day, enthusiastically entered a bid \u2013 after mistakenly hearing the call of \u2018one hundred and TEN dollars\u2019 for simply \u2018TEN dollars\u2019. Nobody would better his large bid, so the beast was now declared the property of Ken.<\/p>\n Unfortunately Ken had to call in a few markers and seek an early payment of yet to be earned wages from the Publican to cover his impulsive purchase. But honour it he did and he won the race too \u2013 he received one hundred and twenty dollars for his one hundred and ten put at risk! He\u2019s a nice bloke with a keen sense of humour and I dare say he\u2019ll laugh about his investment for many years to come.<\/p>\n Of course Mick was there yelling encouragement to potential owners \u201cOh \u2013 you can see this man is a keen judge of fine horse-flesh. This horse here, he jumped my twelve foot fence and ran all the way to Bourke before I could catch him in the ute \u2013 and then he raced me back. Beat me too. Yep his thoroughbred bloodlines run far and deep this fella\u201d<\/p>\n He was describing a furry backed little Shetland Pony at the time.<\/p>\n I was doing a lot of talking and drinking and generally having a ball. I heard second hand that the ladies had a sack race and one of the local lasses fell over and dropped both her sack and her jeans \u2013 revealing what I heard was a toned and shapely G-string clad country derriere. They tell me it was quite the spectacle of the afternoon.<\/p>\n They got a bit serious after that, with donkey races \u2013 I believe most of the riders were a gang of fit young bucks from Dubbo, up there for a pig hunting stint. For the most part, the donkeys ran in the right direction \u2013 but there were plenty of casualties among the jockeys, leaving skin and bark strewn along the gravelly track, and now sporting deep red, bloody grazes on elbows and hips primarily.<\/p>\n I was chatting to a big bloke throughout the morning \u2013 he boasted a remarkable resemblance to Mark Brandon \u2018Chopper\u2019 Read, though he appeared to lack that threatening hair-trigger to immediate and violent recourse. He seemed a happy enough fellow, though game as Ned Kelly. He was a big man in stature with a bristling handle-bar type moustache and shaven head (for the most part hidden under a western style hat). He also displayed plenty of tattoos over his body. Now I\u2019m not one to speculate but I think it is safe to assume that the artists who applied his ink-work were not trained at the Royal Australian Academy Of Tattoo Artists \u2013 I suspect that they learned their trade at a somewhat different school. Nor am I one to judge a book by it\u2019s cover \u2013 and this bloke seemed alright to me \u2013 he never referred to himself in the third person, like \u2018Go and buy Uncle Chop-Chop a beer\u2019, which I found encouraging as well.<\/p>\n Anyway, my big mate rode one of the donkeys and did a fair job \u2013 but his real go was the camels. Somehow they mustered up enough riders from amongst the throng, to cover all starters. My big mate was partnered by the biggest camel of the lot \u2013 it seemed a fair match.<\/p>\n Tension was thick in the air as the handlers tried to encourage the camels to kneel down so they could be mounted. Apparently these camels took exception to this plan and mainly stood their ground roaring defiantly. Granted, there were no saddles or other such apparatus to make staying on a little easier, and the camels were thus probably not fully aware of exactly what was expected of them \u2013 but roar they did. They were all filthy teeth and bad attitude in my eyes \u2013 my big mate was also a little wary of the toothy roaring beast swinging his carnivorous looking head this way and that. He backed off a few times \u2013 much to my delight, but eventually he was up there \u2013 riding high, perched just behind his hump. One athletic little darkish fella mounted a smallish near-black camel from the standing position \u2013 looked like he\u2019d been doing it all his life.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In the end they declared the race was on, though confusion still reigned supreme, both upon rider and camel faces alike. Eventually all beasts appeared to be travelling in the Melbourne manner of racing, that is, anti-clockwise. My big mate rounded the near corner in a patch of traffic and dust but managed to lose grip on his ride at a critical point. He came down hard, planting his baldy head into the gravelly track surface. He lay flat out on his back as camels dodged around him (I snapped a timely and amusing picture). It was some time before someone snapped out of their perceived humour and attended to the big-fella\u2019s first aid. They sat him up when he regained consciousness, and examined the cut in his pate. He was alright \u2013 he didn\u2019t betray his tattoos either \u2013 he was indeed a pretty tough hombre. I saw him later in the night and promised to send him the photos if he gave me an email address. He returned from the bar with a piece of paper with his address and a fresh schooner for me. He told me he had travelled all the way from Melbourne to ride that blo0dy camel and though he ended up in the dust, he had no regrets. I gladly shook his hand and congratulated him on a fine effort of riding but mainly for his spirit of adventure and guts to put himself up in such a vulnerable position in the first place \u2013 all for the fun of it.<\/p>\n I believe the bloke on the near-black camel was declared the actual winner of the race \u2013 and that was only through someone\u2019s bragging that he had judged the bloke a natural camel jockey before the race commenced.<\/p>\n My mate Mark sent me an SMS advising me that his brother-in-law Robert and his oldman Bear were already at the pub \u2013 had turned up several days early. I\u2019d never met these blokes but had been assured they were nice guys, and as they were part of our mob, I went looking for them. I saw two fresh looking blokes sitting at a table in the corner, drinking schooners. I approached and said \u2018G\u2019day fellas \u2013 would you be Robert and Bear?\u201d<\/p>\n A surprised \u2018Yes\u2019 was the answer so I introduced myself and we shook hands all round. We had a chat and I declared that I was heading into the car park for a sausage sandwich. I wasn\u2019t out the door before I was raked over to the Tug-o-war rope \u2013 \u2018Here yar Bigfella, you\u2019re on our side!\u2019<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure what happened next \u2013 we lost one round, that I thought we\u2019d win, we then won one that I thought we had no chance in and then someone else walked away with the little gold trophy. I wiped my hands, picked up my beer and headed for the sausage stand. Behind me the girls were taking up the slack in the thick rope \u2013 heels dug into the gravel of the carpark and laying on the weight \u2013 totally barefoot! Too tough for me baby.<\/p>\n I had a nice chat to a pretty young girl in a pink hat, whose boyfriend had been reluctantly thrown onto a donkey with the overwhelming support from those of us milling about the general area. Unfortunately he became the first casualty of that race and emerged for the far end of the track (the first turn) covered in dust and blood and featuring a curious new limp for his troubles. He fel t brave and bragged about the experience soon after the pain wore off though.<\/p>\n Pinky invited me back to her camp for a chat and drink later in the night should I feel the urge.<\/p>\n The band struck up out front of the pub (actually, it was just one woman playing music, singing and encouraging the occasional karaoke star), but it sounded great at the time. I was in and out of the pub, chatting to all and sundry and having myself a thoroughly marvellous time. On one trip out of the doors, destination who-knows-where, my arm was seized by a lady who wanted to dance. My natural reaction of late has been to thank them and shake it off \u2013 when this type of thing occasionally happened to me. However, after several recent parties, my seventeen year old niece, (who obviously doesn\u2019t drink) commented to me that I don\u2019t change at all when I get drunk \u2013 unlike her mother (my sister) and our brother \u2013 who both seem inclined to sing and dance after a few sherbies. I had decided that I had been too serious for far too long (since moving to the Gold Coast from Darwin), and made a conscious plan to get a little crazy.<\/p>\n So I said \u2018What the hell \u2013 yeah, let\u2019s dance\u2019.<\/p>\n She (I don\u2019t know her name, though we introduced ourselves earlier in the day), encourages me by saying \u2018See you can dance\u2019 \u2013 I immediately thought of the old Leo Sayer song, \u2018Long Tall Glasses\u2019, (You know \u2013 \u2018I can dance, you know I can dance\u2026.\u2019), but I didn\u2019t feel quite steady enough to \u2018do a two-step, quick-step and a Bossanova , a little Victor Sylvester and a Rudy Valentino\u2026\u2019, so I just said \u2018Yeah \u2013 I\u2019ve always been a sh1t-hot dancer\u2019, belying my total uncoordinated lumber that I usually pass off as dancing. Incidentally, I learned my entire dancing repertoire from Bruce Springsteen\u2019s \u2018Dancing In The Dark\u2019 film clip \u2013 though as yet I\u2019ve not come across my Courtney Cox in the crowd.<\/p>\n My dancing queen tells me she likes big blokes such as myself and confides she once had a twenty-nine stone husband. I find out that she lives in a neighbouring town and that I am welcome to visit any time. I\u2019m feeling pretty proud and happy with myself by this stage and dance up a storm \u2013 she was a lovely lady and I had a great time but I wasn\u2019t done socialising yet.<\/p>\n Things get a bit hazy after that \u2013 I do however recall once again emerging from the pub and watching the entertainment \u2013 I think it was karaoke, but the vocalists seemed unfamiliar with the Billy Joel lyrics\u2026..so I stepped up to lend a hand. I think by the end of the song I was flying solo with \u2018You may be right, I may be crazy \u2013 ohhh, but it just may be a lunatic you\u2019re looking for \u2026.!!!!\u2019<\/p>\n I have a vague recollection of being asked to stick around and sing a Bryan Adams song \u2013 unfortunately it wasn\u2019t the \u2018Summer of Sixty-Nine\u2019, which is the only one I\u2019m familiar with, so I left them wanting more (actually my singing ability comes in a long way behind my non-existent dancing credits \u2013 so there was no great loss and it was probably a relief to all when Stevie left the building).<\/p>\n Last thing I remember is emerging from the bar again to discover some dirty grub had stolen the cover off one of my new Lightforce driving lights. I bought the special crystal blue lenses as they disperse the light in my favoured pattern. Though they are only twenty-two bucks each, I was really p1ssed at the thought of some snake simply taking my property as a souvenir of their good time in the bush. At that point I went off my nut and told Pete about it \u2013 apparently some dog had also stolen from him \u2013 a hand made ashtray his kid gave him and the top off one of his stools. Scum. Unfortunately you find them everywhere.<\/p>\n On that note, I decided to call it a night and I jumped in the cruiser and drove her back (on private property) to my camping spot\u2026\u2026\u2026<\/p>\n \u201cAhhh \u2013 the burning sun \u2013 can someone turn that sun down?\u2026. GOOD GOD \u2013 WHERE AM I? Who inflicted this terrible bodily harm upon my person last night?\u201d<\/p>\n I felt like I\u2019d been trampled by a mob of brumbies.<\/p>\n I slowly opened my eyes and sat up in my swag \u2013 \u201cJesus Christ, what have I done?\u201d<\/p>\n I looked around, not believing how bright the sun was \u2013 already I couldn\u2019t wait for the sun to go back down, so I could go back to sleep.<\/p>\n Okay, let\u2019s examine the evidence\u2026\u2026.ah yes, the pub, camels, beers, dancing, singing\u2026.oh god\u2026.<\/p>\n Righteo \u2013 I did this to myself \u2013 now it\u2019s time to face the music.<\/p>\n So I stood up, had a wiz and started looking around.<\/p>\n It seems that I cooked myself a steak sandwich after I got back last night \u2013 wow, that\u2019s pretty clear thinking, considering the state I was in. Hmmm \u2013 I also washed that down with a camp mug full of bourbon and coke\u2026\u2026..whilst listening to Trisha Yearwood\u2019s Greatest Hits (which I\u2019d won from CMC last year).<\/p>\n I\u2019d bought a fishing rod about a month previous and for an extra dollar, you got a head-mounted light \u2013 like a miner\u2019s lamp. I thought it might come in handy in an emergency situation in my car \u2013 so I stuck in there. For some reason I had the greatest of difficulty trying to insert the batteries last night \u2013 couldn\u2019t get it going for love or money. This morning, I dropped the batteries in and clicked the cap back on \u2013 good as gold. And some people actually drive the public streets in that condition \u2013 insanely dangerous.<\/p>\n I also blew a thong \u2013 till this day I know not how \u2013 but the inside rear plug was clean broken on my right foot. I don\u2019t even recall wearing thongs that day.<\/p>\n I felt bloated, my head was throbbing, my eyes still blurry and the gravitational pull seemed to have increased tenfold overnight \u2013 I felt an unyielding compulsion to lie down and close my eyes. I knew I had to fight it, so I decided to head for the ablutions for some personal business and a reviving shower.<\/p>\n Click, click\u2026\u2026\u2026\u201dYOU ROTTEN\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n It seems I left some light on in my car last night, somewhere \u2013 the battery was dead.<\/p>\n Now I really did not feel like walking half a kilometre through the hot bush in this condition \u2013 so I sat there considering my options. They were very limited. But I sat there just the same \u2013 it would be an extra three hundred metres to the pub, where someone might have jumper leads and a helpful disposition\u2026..<\/p>\n Unbelievable\u2026\u2026\u2026.here comes a little black car, along my camp track! I\u2019ll not let this rooster get past without hitting them up for a hand. (In that savagely hungover state, you tend to get tunnel vision and all I could think of was fixing my battery).<\/p>\n I leapt out of my drivers seat (in actual fact, swung my legs over and slid out), and began to head round to flag this sucker down. My broken thong kept swinging sideways under my foot and added to the already difficult task of walking.<\/p>\n The car saw me coming and stopped. I couldn\u2019t see the driver due to the sun on the windscreen (or the sleepy eye-snot that still fouled my peepers), so I continued my approach. Then I see the door open and a big black hat emerge \u2013 the driver had a familiar grin and a video camera in his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cG\u2019day Mate\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cHow ya goin? Have you got any blo0dy jumper leads? My battery is f…………\u201d<\/p>\n It was my mate Mark. He\u2019d turned up three days early. He wanted to get my surprised look on video \u2013 all he got was a expletive filled monologue complaining about a flat battery and some mongrel that stole my light-cover the previous night.<\/p>\n It took a while to realise what was going on \u2013 then he says \u201cYou wanna beer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNO!\u201d<\/p>\n Mark drove to the pub and borrowed some jumper leads \u2013 when he picked up the bag, the handles came off \u2013 \u2018Sorry mate\u2019, when he got to my car, the bags zipper came off in his hand. We jumped my car and he said I had to return the leads in their broken bag to the owner. I cringed.<\/p>\n Mark decided to erect his tent closer to the amenities, so I agreed to move my stuff too (ground sheet, stove, esky and water barrel).<\/p>\n I took off to recharge my battery \u2013 headed for the airstrip and did a few runs up and down the runway. I thought it best that I continue to avoid public roads at this stage, even given the limited traffic around these parts. The airstrip is a red dirt affair which is still in pretty good nick considering its limited use over the previous few years.<\/p>\n I collected my gear and headed towards Mark\u2019s chosen spot \u2013 my camp was set back up in about four minutes and I wandered over to where Mark was listening to a bit of Chuck Wicks on his car stereo\u2026\u2026..and swearing profusely whilst shaking and shuffling his recently unfurled brand spanking new, four-man nylon dome tent.<\/p>\n \u201cWhatcha doing Mate?\u201d<\/p>\n The reply would curl your hair and I doubt I could even spell some of those words, even if I were inclined to write them. Apparently Big W had sold him a tent which requires three special flexi-poles.<\/p>\n The two longer ones criss-cross over the tent\u2019s apex and the shorter one supports a nifty little igloo-style entry passage. Simple.<\/p>\n \u2026\u2026\u2026Well, it would have been simple had they not decided to retain one of the longer poles in their retail storeroom. This left Mark very frustrated, with one long pole and one short one\u2026\u2026and me with a wicked grin on my now recovering phiz. The springy linked flexi poles kept coming apart \u2013 it was like a see-saw \u2013 you fix one side and the other falls apart, move around and the first side comes to grief.<\/p>\n He tried all manner of ropes and knots and various fixtures to no avail. Ultimately, I pulled out a roll of sportsman Elastoplast sticky tape stuff, used to support injured joints and limbs. Some may wonder why I would carry such stuff, though by now, you\u2019ll probably be starting to understand. If not, you\u2019re welcome to come camping with us one day\u2026.<\/p>\n So we wrapped that around the bottom of the poles, tent, peg-hook etc binding it all together and finally got the thing to stand on its own. We agreed that if the wind blew too hard, there was little chance of this thing remaining erect (and that was to be the case a few days later). But for the mean time, Mark threw his swag into the tent, along with his bag and various other personal items.<\/p>\n After a shower Mark convinced me to head to the pub with him. Click\u2026.click\u2026.. Mark\u2019s battery was flat. I gave him a jump start and handed him back the leads, in their ruined keeper-bag. \u2018Here mate \u2013 you better return these leads to their owner eh, hehehe\u2019.<\/p>\n I entered the pub feeling pretty sheepish after my antics the night before \u2013 to be greeted by a bright and friendly \u2018Hullow Steve\u2019\u2026..Jani.<\/p>\n I drank a couple of ice-cold orangey Mirinda\/Fanta things, while my mate had beers and caught up with Pete.<\/p>\n I thanked Mark for his early arrival and apologised to him for my poor greeting and lack of animation at his surprise appearance. I shudder to think of how I\u2019ll come across as he introduces me on his video commentary. A stumbling, foul-mouthed, bleary-eyed bear of a man – with a blustering list of complaints and a threatening disposition.<\/p>\n Surprise!<\/p>\n I asked if they sold thongs at the pub and Gloria advised me that they didn\u2019t, however, they were given promotional thongs every now and then and she\u2019d go and check for a size 12 for me.<\/p>\n Beauty. Gloria returned with a pair of VB green size sevens, which I jammed onto my trotters.<\/p>\n My heel hung over the rear by about an inch and a half \u2013 which is asking for trouble in this burr infested territory. I ended up pulling the green Y-shaped plug piece out of the smaller thongs and inserting them into the base plate of my larger blue thongs. This saved my heel but made it damned tight across the toes \u2013 and while it was bearable, it was really not a long term solution to my footwear problem.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve known Mark since he was about fourteen years old \u2013 our initial acquaintance occurred in about 1982 when I opened my parent\u2019s front door, to discover a red-eyed young fella with a bum-fluff moustache, inquiring about my sister. I was very protective of my little sister back then (still am) \u2013 so I didn\u2019t much like this bloke. Apparently he didn\u2019t much care.<\/p>\n Somehow, after a few years we were great mates. Back in \u201992, I was on the rock\u2019n\u2019roll and Mark quit his job as the Terrigal Hotel\u2019s best barman, to move up to Darwin for a spell. When we left, I believe he had about eighty-five bucks in his wallet and I had a hundred and forty \u2013 his Nissan Bluebird ran out of rego in about a week\u2019s time and was packed to the gunwales with camping gear.<\/p>\n Ironically, we spent the first night at Byrock pub\u2026\u2026\u2026where we proceeded to blow all our cash. We then spent a week bobbing round the pool at Longreach, waiting for my dole check to arrive for petrol. Similar story at Katherine and Tennant Creek. We sold the car at Darwin about three and half weeks after leaving home \u2013 eight-hundred and fifty bucks \u2013 we had a slap-up Chinese feed and headed straight to the casino for a few cold ales and a bet. We drank as much as we could and then flew home the next day. I\u2019d gained a great suntan and lost about three-stone, having not been able to afford anything to eat. It wasn\u2019t a great success as trips go but it was a truly grand experience.<\/p>\n Mark worked in the TAB when he left school, then a pub, then as Bowling Club manager, then he ran Bateau Bay pub for a while (the pub in Adam Harvey\u2019s clip \u2013 \u2018God Made Beer\u201d). He used to organise country artists such as Beccy Cole, Adam Brand, Kasey Chambers and Darren Coggan to play out in the beer garden on Sunday afternoons. Now he\u2019s a cop \u2013 and a great mate of mine.<\/p>\n I ended up recovering well enough to have a few beers with Mark that night, but we still had an early one.<\/p>\n Monday saw Mark with another flat battery, so we drove to Bourke (80kms) to buy a new one \u2013 and for me to buy myself a set of jumper leads. Turned out that there was nothing wrong with the battery and there was not a set of jumper leads for sale in the entire town of Bourke! I also needed a new pair of thongs, which I finally scored at some huge clothing outlet in the main street.<\/p>\n We went to the Bowling club to check things out, had a couple of beers and lost a hundred bucks or so in the pokies, then drove home. Had a few drinks at the Mulga Creek and then went outback to the beer garden to play a little bit of guitar. Mark was showing me a few things \u2013 \u2018Raining On The Rock\u2019, \u2018Heart Of Gold\u2019, a Rob Thomas number and was just running through a couple of Taylor Swift songs when Jani came out collecting glasses.<\/p>\n I shot Mark a quick glance \u2013 stop mate, that\u2019ll do! Stop. Stop.<\/p>\n Jani was looking over as Mark was singing to me:<\/p>\n \u201cHey Stephen, boy you might have me believin’ I don’t always have to be alone<\/p>\n Cause I can’t help it if you look like an angel Can’t help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain so\u2026\u2026\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Now, being German, I\u2019m not so sure how familiar Jani is with Taylor Swift lyrics \u2013 but I certainly don\u2019t wanna be giving off any misleading signs \u2013 and that scene would look g@y in anyone\u2019s eyes!<\/p>\n I feel pretty special when I pretend Taylor is directing her \u2018Hey Stephen\u2019 song at me \u2013 the thought of Mark directing the same sentiments at me makes me physically ill.<\/p>\n Not that there\u2019s anything wrong with that.<\/p>\n We retired to the camp and sat around the fire \u2013 cooking a chicken and veges in the camp oven.<\/p>\n I usually pride myself on my camp cooking, but we dragged it out of the coals and the chicken was not quite done. Twenty minutes later the whole song and dance act was charcoal. We ate it anyway.<\/p>\n Mark\u2019s mate Scotty was due to arrive on Tuesday afternoon \u2013 they met at the Goulburn Academy. We were also expecting another Scotty, so I\u2019ll refer to this first bloke as Detective Ex-Butcher, because he was a butcher before he became a cop. The other bloke, I\u2019ll call The Boxer \u2013 \u2018cause he\u2019s a boxer.<\/p>\n Det Ex-Butcher is a really funny bloke \u2013 not in the sense that tells lots of jokes, but he is a naturally observant chap and witty and he sometimes provides humorous running commentary to real time events. Simple things like the type of ball he\u2019s about to bowl in cricket and the batsman\u2019s reaction and general ramifications. He doesn\u2019t attempt to emulate Richie Benaud and the like \u2013 he just does it in his own voice. He gave a great rundown on the confusing data and stats rattled out on Sky channel in regards to winners, places, special dividends, quaddies, margins, sectional times and everything else that goes with it. Very funny but topical and timely and you have to be there.<\/p>\n There\u2019s something about Det Ex-Butcher that makes you wanna be his friend \u2013 I can\u2019t put my finger on it – maybe it\u2019s charisma, or maybe it\u2019s his six-foot-four frame and the knowledge that he can lock you up? Whatever it is, I enjoy the bloke\u2019s company.<\/p>\n Mark and I decided to run down to Coolabah (50kms) to meet Det Ex-Butcher on his way up \u2013 and also to charge my battery again. So we took off down the Mitchell Highway singing along and generally enjoying the region. The only thing in Coolabah is \u2013 you guessed it \u2013 a pub.<\/p>\n Apparently the publican was troubled by some uncooperative beer-lines, so we were forced to drink it from the bottle. Three Tooheys Extra Dry\u2019s and a couple of hundred bucks in the three pokies and we were done. We sent Det Ex-Butcher an updated SMS \u2013 We\u2019ll see ya at Byrock.<\/p>\n So back we went.<\/p>\n While we were gone, Mark\u2019s brother-in-law Robert and his dad Bear had returned to Byrock \u2013 they\u2019d been out shooting. We\u2019d hoped they\u2019d bring back a young goat for the pot, as they did last year (along with a pot full of yabbies). No such luck \u2013 they had a single rabbit and a couple of meaty drumsticks from a feathered beast.<\/p>\n Regarding Bear, he\u2019s seventy three years old, I never once saw him sh1t in the woods and he\u2019s not a large burly-shouldered hairy man, so from a personal point of view, modesty forbade me from asking the obvious question. I figured it best to leave the root of his moniker a well kept secret, to avoid embarrassment all round.<\/p>\n We spent a little more time round the camp as more people arrived \u2013 kicking the footy, playing cricket and bocce etc, though I am personally more your song and dance man these days, than midday sun sportsman. We sat around the fire, Det Ex-Butcher cooked up a few pretty decent meals in the camp ovens and Mark and Tristan played a few decent tunes on their guitars, with Tristan even throwing in bit of harmonica on Heart of Gold.<\/p>\n Tristan is a work mate of Mark\u2019s and a friendly but quiet sort of bloke. He had a great rig set up in his Prado and seemed to keep things in fine order \u2013 which is at odds with his penchant for drinking rum.<\/p>\n The brother of Mark\u2019s girlfriend goes by the name of Adam and he too lobbed among us on the Wednesday, rolling up in a finely turned out Landcruiser ute, complete with a \u2018Murdoch-green-canvas canopy\u2019 on the back and satisfied looking dog, Chevy in the passenger\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n Adam is ex-Navy and he\u2019s a nuggetty and interesting bloke to talk to \u2013 he\u2019s a very independent hombre and I like his style. He tends to approach things in a very different manner to the way I see them.<\/p>\n We took another trip to Bourke Bowling Club on Wednesday, had a few bets on the horses and played the pokies again. This time Mark, Tristan, Det Ex-Butcher and myself threw in fifty bucks each and dragged out six hundred. We scored a pie each from the bakery and headed home again.<\/p>\n Next to turn up is a bloke I\u2019ll call Beardy, mainly because that\u2019s what I called him then, and I\u2019m not sure that I ever heard his actual name. Beardy was older than the other blokes and a career policeman \u2013 but you\u2019d never have picked that, in his Parramatta footy jumper and near constant laughter. Both of which stand testament to a good sense of humour.<\/p>\n Mark kept playing country music in his car while around camp, with great enthusiasm \u2013 I loved it but the others were not quite so fond, though Brad Paisley seemed to strike a chord. At one stage, while Mark showered, Det Ex-Butcher seized the opportunity and put on the Kings of Leon, or some such nonsense \u2013 Mark came roaring back and ripped the offending CD from his dash \u2013 \u201cNo! This is not Byrock music. Byrock music is country music, now who\u2019s is this?\u201d<\/p>\n He\u2019s a passionate man if nothing else.<\/p>\n The Friday dawned with great expectations for me \u2013 a few of my long time, very good mates were due to arrive.<\/p>\n Remarkably, when they arrived, we were in the pub!<\/p>\n Dean drove up from Sydney with our old mate Dave, who\u2019d flown in from Adelaide for the trip, and they arrived first.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve been mates with Dean since we were both teenagers \u2013 he used to date my sister \u2013 they broke up but Dean and I didn\u2019t \u2013 sure we\u2019ve had our lean times over the years but we\u2019re still the best of friends. Dean grew up directly across the road from Mark and the two have been best mates since they could walk. Dean used to sell toilets and has never liked beer or smoked \u2013 he drinks bourbon, gin and Malibu, and doesn\u2019t swear. About ten years ago he married my favourite girl, which inspired me to move to Darwin. They now have two great boys and she looks after him a treat- and we\u2019re still the very best of mates.<\/p>\n Dave was brought up in an adjacent suburb to myself, Dean, Mark and Lloydy (who showed up later that day), and we all went to Busby High School (or Busby Jail, as they called it in those days \u2013 now James Busby High, Ha!). Dave lost his father as a young bloke and lost direction for a short while because of it. He left school early and drifted for a while. He remains to this day about the most knowledgeable bloke I know \u2013 he is extremely well read with an infinite diversity of interests. In fact, he discussed the German soccer league with Andra (the young barmaid) for an hour or so \u2013 naming teams and individual players, as well as great German players of the past and the drafting process of specific third-grade teams. The bloke\u2019s general knowledge is astounding! He was doing some youth work about a decade ago and fell in love with a nice chick from Adelaide, moved there and now they have three kids.<\/p>\n Our old mate Lloydy was the next arrival \u2013 he is sometimes known as the Spaz, based upon his individual idiosyncrasies. I had only spoken to Lloydy once in the last three or four years \u2013 he lobbed at the pub and we picked up where we\u2019d left off. It\u2019s a great comfort to have mates like that \u2013 no bitching about regular calls and visits etc \u2013 just good mates who enjoy each other\u2019s company when circumstances permit. He\u2019s a great fun bloke the old Spaz and we have a million laughs \u2013 generally taking the micky out of each other, or whoever else happens to be around at the time. He\u2019s a great footy and cricket fan and follows them religiously, yet he has absolutely no idea about either!<\/p>\n Mark\u2019s mate Dave also showed up as a late starter \u2013 but he\u2019s a Souths supporter, so the less said about him, the better.<\/p>\n We were sitting out the front of the pub, some drinking, some reading the paper and some smoking \u2013 Mark was in a big steel chair with his back to the car park, when a landcruiser ute pulls in, runs right up to us and tips Mark\u2019s chair with the bullbar \u2013 The Boxer had arrived!<\/p>\n He\u2019s a cheeky b@stard The Boxer, and is married to Dean\u2019s sister. He leaps out with a fun-filled mischievous grin plastered across his face. \u2018How ya goin\u2019 Boys?\u2019<\/p>\n He\u2019s built like a skinned rabbit and is game as Ned Kelly and a sh!t-stirrer from way back. I went away shooting with The Boxer and his dad once, down at Cathcart, where his Nan lives \u2013 as we prepared to depart, he noticed that his mum had hard-boiled a few eggs for her salad work-lunch the next day \u2013 Boxer swapped them for raw-ones before we left.<\/p>\n The Boxer brought a mate with him \u2013 a floppy looking bloke in a silly looking, faded \u2018Australia\u2019 bucket hat and shorts.<\/p>\n \u2018G\u2019day \u2013 I\u2019m Puddles\u2019<\/p>\n My initial impression of Puddles was that he was like a large puppy, with too-big paws and gangly legs \u2013 barrelling all round the territory, sniffing and p1issing and likely at any time, to come up behind you and cannon into the back of your knees, bringing you both down, then licking your face, with a friendly grin on his snout.<\/p>\n In fact, I don\u2019t think my opinion has changed too much \u2013 he\u2019s a fun fella to have around, but I think if you give him too much lead, he\u2019ll have you in playful strife before you know what\u2019s happened.<\/p>\n The last few days tend to run into one another, with different splinter groups heading off and doing their own thing. Ex-Butcher and I played a long round of darts for a while and Andra, the young barmaid joined us, at the encouragement of Pete, her boss. At one early stage, Pete sold me a twenty-five dollar souvenir singlet for ten bucks, he also distributed souvenir pens, stickers and keyrings among the boys totally free of charge. I told you \u2013 he\u2019s a savvy guy this bloke. Free advertising for his establishment, far and wide! (But a genuine, dinky di good bloke as well \u2013 he gets nothing out of shouting us the odd beer \u2013 that\u2019s just his nature)<\/p>\n I spoke to nearly everyone who entered the pub over a week and a half \u2013 but a fella can\u2019t remember all the fellas that he meets. So I\u2019m sure the trainer of champion dishlickers from Coolabah, and the freshly groomed ex-long-haired, frill bearded local bloke, as well as the solid fella perched at the bar\u2019s end, would take no offence that I don\u2019t recall the names of all the chaps I chanced to meet during that period, and will not hold this against me when next I visit.<\/p>\n The pub had a four wheel drive \u2018bash\u2019 come through on Friday night \u2013 all camping at the grounds behind the pub. I got back to find that some knob had parked his truck right up next to my gear. I stopped, then parked right next t o him and proceeded to spread my gear back out in front of his car, as his family in their big tent adjacent all stood and watched. I then took a beer and headed over to our fire, where all the boys were sitting. Someone asked me if I was gonna move my camp \u2013 I said \u2018Nah \u2013 F… \u2018em \u2013 apparently they don\u2019t mind snoring over there\u2019 (I\u2019m told I snore when I sleep, but I think this is all just foul gossip and slander).<\/p>\n \u2018But the bloke\u2019s parked right on top of you\u2019<\/p>\n I said again \u2018F*** him \u2013 I\u2019ll give him something to think about for a while\u2019<\/p>\n Then one of the blokes sitting round our fire said \u2018Sorry mate \u2013 that was me who parked on top of you. I thought it was abandoned\u2019<\/p>\n I thought it was just us around the fire \u2013 I had no idea they were there!<\/p>\n He says jokingly \u201cDon\u2019t worry, I won\u2019t pack up your stuff and take it with me in the morning\u201d<\/p>\n I felt like lecturing him on the subject of things that don\u2019t belong to you. If you didn\u2019t buy it, if you didn\u2019t put it there, then don\u2019t frigging presume somebody left it there for you to take! If it doesn\u2019t strictly belong to you \u2013 leave the blo0dy thing alone! I know a bloke who found a crystal-blue driving light cover the same way, just the other day.<\/p>\n I moved my stuff closer to the other boys anyway \u2013 like I was gonna do all along.<\/p>\n Some of these young blokes, like Boxer and Puddles (and Det Ex-Butcher on his Fourex Golds) start their drinking at about 7am \u2013 way too early for me.<\/p>\n On Saturday we all took another trip to Bourke and the Bowlo \u2013 for bets on the Epsom (which half the blokes cleaned up on, simply because the winner had \u2018Rock\u2019 in his name, like ByROCK!)<\/p>\n Eight of the guys went out and played lawn bowls, drinking in the sun for four hours, some stayed inside and backed horses and some played the pokies. I got a second, third and then fourth on the horses, then went and gave the pokies a rattle with Ex-Butcher. We threw in fifty each and took out two-hundred a piece.<\/p>\n Dean\u2019s cheap boss insists he drives a gas-only car \u2013 for budget reasons \u2013 and it was low on fuel, so Dean decided to drive his car to Bourke to fill him up. All that achieved was getting Dean breath-tested by the local cops and we discovered that there was no gas for sale in Bourke on weekends. If there was no gas at Nyngan on Monday (a public holiday) Dean and Dave were in for a tow.<\/p>\n On the way back from Bourke, the sun was setting and Boxer and Puddles were sleeping in the back seat, with Lloydy in between. I was keeping a keen eye out for roos, because Dean is half blind but refuses to wear the glasses he has been prescribed. We\u2019re doing a hundred and ten down the Mitchell, heading south and I ring the warning bell about ten miles from Byrock \u2013 \u2018Loogout mate, up here on the right\u2019<\/p>\n There was a buck roo standing tall \u2013 as we got closer he took off across the road, Dean dived on the stoppers, but not too hard and Roo-Boy looked over his shoulder, turned, did a Jarryd Hayne, a pirouette, stepped the other way, then turned again and ultimately shot off in the direction from whence he came. We\u2019d all but stopped dead by then, and Puddles woke with a start, due to the inertia \u2013 Boxer continued to snore. He\u2019s like a camp-dog that bloke, he’ll sleep anywhere!<\/p>\n Things got a bit messy at the Mulga Creek that night \u2013 Dave made friends with some bloke in the same state as he \u2013 very drunk, not South Australia. They were drinking something called a Cranky Monkey or something, later referred to as Spank-The-Monkey \u2013 made from Kaluah, Banana Vok and milk \u2013 tastes just like a banana smoothy. They went to the toilet together, deep in conversation and Dave, finishing first and continuing to explain his point, stepped down from the trough, stumbled and reached for the locked cubicle door for support. The door wasn\u2019t locked, it flew open, Dave flew in and smashed his eyebrow on the porcelain receptacle. His eye was swollen and the lid split open and bleeding profusely.<\/p>\n It needed stitching but we were eighty kilometres from the nearest hospital and no one could drive, so Gloria, being an ex-nurse, patched him up the best she could \u2013 and it was a fine job too. Dave was more concerned about telling the missus than bearing any long lasting scars. I told him I envied him such a battle scar \u2013 and he sheepishly pointed out that there was no heroics in falling off the p!ss-trough and into the sh!tter \u2013 he\u2019s a very funny man under all circumstances.<\/p>\n In the end his missus was just glad he was alright and had a good time. After the weekend, he SMS\u2019ed me apologising for acting the fool, said he thought he\u2019d grown out of it (he\u2019d done similar things in his youth). I said \u2018Mate \u2013 no apologies required \u2013 that\u2019s what these weekends are all about \u2013 cutting loose, relaxing, doing whatever you want and not caring about the repercussions for a change. You did good\u2019<\/p>\n A week later he messaged \u2018Well, it only took one lawn-mowing to fall back off the wagon. Oh well, se la vie\u2019<\/p>\n Late Saturday night Mark had a twinge of loneliness, guilt and missing his missus and kids, whipped up his gear and did a runner \u2013 this news spread among the boys with great regret and disappointment but a man\u2019s gotta do what he\u2019s gotta do. (Of course we all displayed the required amount of sympathy for the poor wretch…)<\/p>\n Sunday was NRL Grand Final day and before he left, apparently Mark had put his brother-in-law Adam in for an early morning trip to Bourke, to pick up a new wide-screen TV to put up in the beer garden. Lucky mongrel got to spend a few hours of quality time, alone with Jani, who tagged along with him.<\/p>\n We all arrived at the pub at about eleven and mainly sat out the back beer garden, playing bocce and chatting, while Pete and Ken proceeded to mount the new widescreen on top of the external hotwater service. There were huge reflection problems until they secured a shade-cloth cover and then a huge umbrella contraption to work in unison.<\/p>\n Eighty people from another car bash turned up as expected, organised by the Dubbo cops, and created a great atmosphere for the GF.<\/p>\n Most of us were disappointed that the Eels eventually went down, but delighted in the rampaging game played by big Fui Fui!<\/p>\n After we retreated to the campfire once more, Tristan and Det Ex-Butcher finally made the most of Mark\u2019s absence and blasted heavy metal music for all to hear. The only song I remember is by some stunted little, mentally challenged lad yelping that \u2018You want it all, but you can\u2019t have it…..\u2019<\/p>\n It had been a long couple of weeks and most of us were in bed by about nine thirty that night.<\/p>\n I slept like a log in my swag that last night \u2013 except when I woke up \u2013 thinking it was five am and I had to get out of bed and go to work \u2013 I opened my eyes to see the full moon and stars and realised it was only eleven thirty and I still had two days of holidays left. How great is that?<\/p>\n A little before seven am, Boxer and Puddles pulled up next to my swag, we shook hands and said goodbye \u2013 then disappeared in a plume of dust, heading south. I got up, packed my gear and said goodbye to Adam \u2013 the other blokes had already left, besides Dean, Dave and Lloydy.<\/p>\n We all shook hands, gave a bit of a muck-around hug and a chuckle (to cover the true emotion of the moment), then I strapped on the seat belt and headed for the dirt track to Bree.<\/p>\n Twenty metres in and I saw a roo heading for the bush \u2013 I needed to be vigilant. There were plenty more roos and a myriad of birdlife but only one had a close call. He came spearing out of the gidgee scrub on my right hand side, I applied the anchors but he kept coming, realised his predicament and tried to change directions at the last second. I think he went down on his hip, but those big back thumping legs were still going a hundred to the dozen, trying to get a toe-hold in the dirt. He eventually did, avoided my back wheels and shot off back into the bush. Ahh \u2013 you\u2019ve gotta love Australia.<\/p>\n I filled up for the last time at Brewarrina and headed for Goondiwindi. I really enjoyed the experience as I cruised along between Walgett and Moree, listening to Kenny Chesney\u2019s \u2018The Road and The Radio\u2019 CD. I had to stop several times due to loss of concentration and fatigue. At one stage, while I was looking for a place to pull over safely, it appeared to me that someone else had their hand on the steering wheel. It was a combination of a fresh suntanned hand, covered in bulldust, with the sunshine directly above shining upon it \u2013 as well as being tired. Blo0dy dangerous and scary just the same. I pulled over directly and slept for ten minutes then got out and walked around for a while before resuming the drive.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The shower at Goondiwindi was superbly appreciated, I then bought some Red Rooster from the drive through, watched some telly, slept like an angel and drove home the next day.<\/p>\n Not much time to reflect on the weeks before, my oldies were waiting at my place, visiting from Sydney and I had to get up at five the next morning and go to work…..<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 22.10.2009 I was asked to write a blog about my recent bush trip, so I will. I recognise that the content is not strictly CMC related, so I\u2019ll post what I\u2019ve done so far and if there are no objections regarding the subject matter, I\u2019ll add more as I finish it. Otherwise, I\u2019ll work something … Continue reading Byrock ’09<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-278","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p5K3B8-4u","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/278","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=278"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/278\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":336,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/278\/revisions\/336"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=278"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=278"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=278"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}<\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a><\/a>