My day started really early when I woke up, petrified that I’d missed my alarm clock. I hadn’t though, but 4,30 was close enough to my five waking time to make me not go back to sleep.
At 5 I went down and cleaned my truck, inside and out. It was covered in red pindan dust from the day before and I felt bad about being at a swish resort looking like a poor relation. I wore yesterday’s clothes so that the dirt went onto already dirty clothes (as an aside, the night before one of my passengers had very unflatteringly failed to recognize me at the bar when I was clean and brushed and polished) and I got filthy. I decided to move the truck because I was really tired of walking miles around the bloody resort to the back car park every time I needed to get something from the truck. Unfortunately, I neglected to inform Superior Tour Leader Wayne of that fact and he had a minor breakdown, thinking that somebody had stolen the truck, when in fact I was just parking it in front of the resort.
Speaking of the resort, there is a camera which is just in front of it, called “Broome Web Cam” or something like that and it broadcasts in real time. I am very tempted to publish a time and go and cavort in front of it. After a couple of cocktails at the sunset bar.
Off to Derby and the giant old Boab tree. This was used to house Aboriginal prisoners years ago, on their way to the lock up in Derby. It’s hollow and the white police officers used to lock them inside for the night, setting a guard at the entrance.
Lunch at Derby, a visit to the art community at Mowanjum and then onto Imaji Wilderness Camp. We drove over the Leonard River,
Past Queen Vicky’s Head
And through the King Leopold Ranges.
We? I. I drove all day and it was exhausting over dirt roads but exhilarating at the same time. I am very tired now, though, hence the stilted writing. When we got to camp some of the female passengers went to have a swim in the swimming hole and were appalled to discover a freshwater crocodile launching itself into the water at exactly the same time as them. Well, some of them were appalled; others thought it was great and some even went swimming, with my gentle encouragement: after all, it’s not every day that you get a genuine wildlife experience and actually get to swim with a crocodile.
First day of the trip yesterday and I must have only slept about 4 hours. It was just off full moon and very light at night and I kept waking up, convinced that I’d missed my alarm clock. At about 4.45 I actually went into work, loaded up on the pink Piglet, I had a backpack on my back, one on my front and one at my feet. And there was probably still room for a whole family of Indonesians if I was in Bali. Man, I love that thing.
Last minute packing, filling of thermoses with hot water, checking ice in the eskys. And away we went. Pickups all around town took about an hour and we’d left by 7 am, for a long day out to Cape Leveque. Poor passengers. Most of them were elderly and the road was atrocious, not having been yet graded after the wet. Corrugated, rutted and wash of washouts, it was also boring as hell on either side, just red dirt pindan dust and low acacia scrub.
We stopped for morning smoko at Beagle Bay. The last time I was in that area I was nine years old and remember being absolutely fascinated by the altar made of pearl shell. It’s still there and still absolutely gorgeous. They’ve also carried the shell them through and it’s now embedded in the walls and floor as well. Just beautiful.
I am constantly amazed at how passengers put their trust in me and assume I have omnipotent powers. I’m also amazed at how well I rise to the challenge. I’d forgotten how good I am at this and how much I love it.
Lunch was at Cape Leveque tip and involved me preparing bread rolls, salad and cold meat, plus fruit cake and fruit and museli bars. I really wanted to have a swim but being the one in charge means that I am so busy there really isn’t many spare moments. I also wanted to keep a trip diary, in the form of letters and photos, just a little bit each day, even if I can’t put it online so I suspect that I’ll be sneaking from my sleep to do so.
Cape Leveque. The nine year old thing here too also. I remember vividly a photo taken by my parents in around this same spot where I was bare assed naked dragging poles and a tarp for a beach shelter. I mentioned this to my pax, who were very amused.
Long trip back to Broome but we got to stay at the Cable Beach Club. The swishest hotel ever. My room is amazing and the toiletries top notch. Shame I don’t have a honey to share with – my codriver Wayne brought his wife out from Broome to stay the night with him, lucky so and so.
View from my room.
Oh well, I have lots of work to do, lots of truck cleaning and I am too busy really anyway. This place cost $500 million to build and covers 18 hectares. I got lost lots walking from the truck to reception to the bar. Make the most of it, I thought, as this is not a usual stop for our trip but only because the itinerary is different and rain has washed out a lot of the road we should be on. Next trip will not have this luxury.
Such a busy day today.
It was what they called a ‘prep day’, meaning preparation for the trip. This involved final things like cleaning the truck one last time, going out to fuel up, check oil water and tires etc and shopping for the week’s supplies that weren’t included in the tour stays. Things like lunch on the first day, fruit for a week, museli bars, biscuits, milk and so on.
It also involved phoning around the passengers and confirming pickup times and telling them what they needed the next day. Things like they could only take 16kg of luggage, and no, alcohol for a week’s drinking was allowed to be separate to that but glass was no good because it would break, and yes, that the itinerary had changed and that I was so sorry that Head Office hadn’t informed them as they should have, but it would be a fantastic day nonetheless. And how excited I was to do this special tour deviation because most people never got to. And that we got to stay in the fantastic $500 million Cable Beach Resort and eat breakfast and dinner there and watch the sunset and how lucky we were. And that the whole tour had all these wonderful deviations because of the wet weather and that we were going to see a REAL LIFE DIAMOND MINE!!!!!!! And most people never got to do that and how lucky they were. Etc. I hope I convinced them. I almost convinced me.
The truth is somewhat different. The actuality is that these people will drive a hell of a long way for a day trip that is really not that special and will end up in Broome again for the first night, some of them even at the same place they were already staying at. Then, instead of getting to see the whole wilderness experience, most of the trip will be done on the bitumen. It’s not our fault; it can’t be helped. But the fact remains that we, as the crew, will be the ones that get it in the neck from the passengers.
I can talk it through really well. So can Wayne. But this trip is totally different to the trip that I will be doing for the rest of the season. It’s not very helpful as a learning experience at all. It means that the next time I go out there will be a huge amount I will be doing blind. I will have to try and find Aboriginal artwork sites from a rough drawn mud map, whilst pretending I know exactly where I am going. I will have to cross treacherous rivers, not knowing exactly where to put my wheels, and terrified because if I deviate to left or right too much we will be floating downstream instead of crossing safely. It will, no doubt, include lots of me pretending that I’ve come a certain way to point out a particularly rare example of this or that, when the truth is that I don’t have a bloody clue where I am going.
Preparation day took most of the day. I jumped on the Pink Piglet at 4, after starting at 6, and drove home exhausted. The only thing that lifted that feeling was having to refuel the piglet and finding out that it only cost me $5.45! That scooter is amazing and I love riding it around. People at work reckon it totally suits my personality. I don’t know whether that is a compliment or not.
Do I look like a delicate flower?
When I came home from work today there was an air-conditioning man installing the second of two air conditioners in our household of three defective units. Fortunately, it was in the room that I sleep in so I am assured three blissful nights of sleep at least before I head out on tour and don’t need it for the rest of the season.
He wanted help putting the old air conditioner on his truck to take away and he asked if there was a man in the house.
A man!
I said that I was quite capable, that I drove trucks and changed tires just like all the MALE guides but he said his insurance wouldn’t cover it. Then he made me go and get Bob (his real name is Mark but there is another Mark being a guide too, very confusing, and this Mark doesn’t mind being called Bob. In fact, he suggested it and every piece of officialdom is now re-addressed to Bob, instead of Mark: it works quite well as long as we remember to call him Bob and if Bob remembers that he’s called Bob, which he doesn’t always).
Apparently, air-conditioning man’s insurance doesn’t cover boys either but the addition of a penis can make all the difference when it comes to being a helper.
My lovely housemate Leigh thought it was hysterical as she heard me mutter 'sexist pig' whilst stalking past her.
More boring work stuff.
I personally polished every inch of this truck, inside and out, and after first scrubbing it like an old charwoman on my hands and knees.Difficult because my hips are too wide to fit comfortably in the aisle and the seatsare very close together so that my breasts get in the way whne leaning down to scrub the floor underneath. I end up at some very awkward angles indeed: leg in the aisle, other leg on a seat, hooking a boob out of the way, all the while sweating gallons as it is like a sauna inside there.
I am SO attractive when I am at work.
But I do have a big truck! See?
To get that ladder out and climb onto the roof I first have to have a little step ladder to get up to the locker where the real ladder is stored. The passenger luggage goes on the roof. I load it up and unload it myself.
The guy down below is Bob, formerly known as Mark. He's very nice and helpful and does a lot for me. In return I sheared his head with clippers the other day. I did warn him that I had been known to run amuk in the past on my long suffering husband's head but he was okay with the idea of me causing havoc there. Sweet kid.
I have blisters on my hands and bruises all over me, I thought the bruises were dirt and tried to scrub them off for ages until I realised I was only giving myself scrapes on top of bruises. I am not very bright sometimes.
