While
we enjoyed our coffee and cereal, our neighbors were debating what to
do for the day. Well, the father was debating with himself. Mum is
sick with something mysterious and spent most of the time inside
their cavernous tent. The older daughter, a precocious 13, chatted
with family members and busied herself around the campsite. The older
son, 11, ran around with his footy ball, practicing kicks and
dribbles. The next son, 9, mostly sat in a chair near the tent,
reading or playing a video game or somehow else preoccupied. The
little girl,7, who meowed like a cat most of the time, ran back and
forth to the bathroom or whined or hid out in the tent with her mom.
Michael,
the dad, seemed like a cheerful sort and very patient with the kids,
but I could tell he was having a hard time getting up the energy to
pack up and move on. He had errands in town, shopping, fixing the
tire on their small cargo trailer, I don't know what else. The kids
all wanted to get going; I don't blame them, the campground is set on
the edge of town on red dirt with almost no trees or grass. Dogs
barked all night and roosters began crowing around 2 am, a lot like
Mexico. The place served our purposes because we could shower and
hand-wash some laundry after four nights of free bush camping. But I
know Michael was disappointed that we planned to leave, he had
enjoyed talking with us and would have liked another excuse for
staying another night. In the end, he announced a 'family decision'
that they would give Mum a little more time to rest. Ugh, resting in
the tent with no shade sounds like hell. That raised a chorus of
complaints from the kids, and soon Micheal was driving into town,
leaving the rest of the family behind, even though he repeatedly
asked if anyone wanted to join him. I hope they're not there still.
Traveling
with young children has many rewards, too many to enumerate here.
But it can also be quite difficult. We obviously loved it, don't
regret any of the long trips we did, and wish we had done even more.
But watching our neighbors, and other families we've seen on the
trip, as they set up, live in, and tear down camp makes us realize
how much easier it is for two adults alone who have worked out all the
issues.
Tires, Skype, and Ecky
We got
to the tire place at about 9 am, dropped off the car, and walked into
town. We stopped at a couple thrift stores, then went to the
library. Diana sent emails and I read short stories about life in BH
in the 50's and 60's, and looked at a fascinating book about a guy
who spent months photographing Aboriginals in their homelands around
1910. Then we Skyped, first for almost an hour with Kelly and then
for 20 – 30 minutes with Kristy. We only left the cameras on long
enough that we could see each other's cute faces; we had a data limit
on the free wifi when we signed up. But it was wonderful talking to
them, even though we had to hide out in a corner of the stacks of the
small library and speak in low voices to keep from disturbing the other patrons.
We got
our car at around 1 pm with mighty new Firestones that hopefully will
take us the rest of the way around Oz.
One last chore before leaving town was getting new wiper blades for
the LC. Took longer than it should have. Suffice it to say we ended
up at a junk yard where the crusty owner Ecky took good care of us
for a fair price and dispensed some advice about watching ourselves
around some of the more nefarious elements in Aussie society. We've
heard nearly universal prejudice of indigenous people from the people
we've spoken with, similar to the level one might have heard in the
US in the 50's or 60's. Not much political correctness here yet, but
most Australians admit that they're about thirty or forty years
behind the States.
 |
| These people didn't pay there bills |
 |
| Not the Mad max compound, but it sure looks like it could be |
Where
we don't explore the Mad Max compound
Our last mission for the day was to go out to the Pinnacles and check
out the Mad Max filming location. We drove out the dusty gravel road
to the mine site, then chickened out about asking for permission to
climb the pinnacle, partly because I wasn't really sure which of the
rocky outcrops was the proper one and thought it might sound a bit
suspicious if I didn't. And partly because it was at the end of the
work day and we doubted we'd get permission just as they were leaving.
We took some photos, then drove an hour or so to a road-side rest
area for the night.
 |
| The hill where Max and the gyro-copter pilot spied on the compound ... I think |
No comments:
Post a Comment